


Red Redemption

by wingsandhorseshoes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Country & Western, Cowboys, Old West, some very dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 32,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsandhorseshoes/pseuds/wingsandhorseshoes
Summary: Dean Winchester had a good life. Running the ranch he took over after the death of his parents with the help of his brothers, wife, and son, he was content despite a bit of a restless youth. But when tragedy strikes the ranch, and his wife is kidnapped, along with his very livelihood, he will enlist some help to hunt down and take back what belongs to him. All together, they embark on a redemption ride that will hold many perils, heartache, and many complications, particularly regarding one of the gun hands accompanying the ride with mesmerizing blue eyes that Dean can't seem to get out of his head. (This is a Destiel fic, just fair warning, ya'll) (... also, sorry for the crappy summary. Still need to work on those...)





	1. Genesis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [The original real-life cowboys including my great grandparents.](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=The+original+real-life+cowboys+including+my+great+grandparents.).



> Thank you for giving this fan fiction a go! :) I'm very excited to be giving this one a go, as I share Dean's affinity for westerns, and anything regarding that era in time. Cowboys and the wild west is a big part of my personal history, and writing this story has, so far, been very fun and just feels right. Plus, Destiel is my OTP, which just concretes my excitement for this story even more. I'm trying to make everything be historically accurate, but if you see any mistakes, please feel free to tell me.
> 
> Per the usual, this story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy :)

Chapter 1: Genesis

The Winchesters hadn't always been a very well known family. There had been a time when the most famous thing they were known for was their kind hearts and Mary's homemade cooking (most famously her hot apple pie). But not even the big fire was what brought fame to the Winchester name, though it certainly contributed. No, it was what happened years later that would mark them as the stuff of legend. But let's start at the beginning.

John Winchester grew up on his daddy's ranch, Sunglow Ranch, about three hours from the town of Lawrence in Southern Colorado, raising and training some of the best horses in the area. The family wasn't exactly rich, but they were better off than some, making him an acceptable match for any of the young ladies in the eyes of their mothers. And though he was a little rough around the edges, he was a gentleman and treated those around him with respect. He would later go on to be a strict but loving father, teaching his sons the very art of survival that would later prove to be one of their most valuable assets.

Mary Campbell was John's beautiful wife, and mother to their three boys. The daughter of a doctor, she came from a family of high standing. Her mother taught her all she needed to know about being a lady, though she much preferred helping to nurse her father's patients; she learned a great deal simply from watching, which would also service her sons later on down the line. When her family settled down in Lawrence, John knew he wanted her to be his wife. After some years of courting, John and Mary were wed, and when John's father Henry passed on, they inherited the ranch.

On January 24, 1849, Dean Michael Winchester was born, half a year after John and Mary's wedding. He was a sturdy young boy with dark sandy hair and an affinity for getting into trouble. He would often get caught attempting to sneak treats, more than once lifting an entire pie that had been set out to cool out to the barn to snack on and feigning ignorance despite his stained hands and face when questioned. However, even at a young age, Dean would be out riding alongside his father on any pony deemed safe enough, helping in any way he could. He enjoyed working with his hands, and when a fence would be down, he made quick work of mending it once more.

When his little brother Sammy (Samuel Nicholas Winchester) was born on May 2, 1853, Dean was ecstatic. They were practically joined at the hip as soon as he was old enough to walk, Sam being the calm to Dean's boldness. They played and worked together everyday as they grew, though at times Sam would prefer to read - taught to them by their mother as well as other topics she had learned in school- as opposed to lassoing or throwing mud and dried horse scat at each other (this second was not a common game, as Mary would immediately send them straight back outside for a thorough washing, much to the boys' abhorrence). On occasion, Sam could coerce Dean to play a game of chess, though Dean would insist upon Sam playing card games in return. Sam would agree, and they would both play chess in their father's office in the Big House, then run out to the barn to play card games so their mother wouldn't catch them.

Mary had her third child on September 29, 1860; Adam Abel Winchester. He closely matched Dean in demeanor, but it was Sam who really took him under his wing, happy to finally get to be the big brother. Often while Dean was helping their father, he would be seen leading Adam around, trying to teach him about whatever came to mind. Of course, Adam's attention could only be held for so long, and he would wander off in the middle of Sam's speeches, much to his annoyance. Mary would usually call them back inside for a snack when this happened to smooth ruffled feathers, and they'd be off playing again within the hour. Life was good for the Winchesters, but even in good times, there's bumps along the way.

By the time Dean was seventeen, he was beginning to get restless. He had grown to be handy with a gun, a fast and accurate shooter, and his tracking skills were a force to be reckoned with. Life on a quiet ranch where it seemed nothing exciting ever happened became too dull for him. So the following year, at the grown age of eighteen in 1867, Dean left the ranch to become first a hired gun, and then eventually a bounty hunter. His parents did not really approve, but understood his need to make his own way. Three years later, Sam headed East to stay with a friend of the family while he apprenticed and studied to become a lawyer at the age of seventeen. This left Adam at home with their parents, a strapping boy of seven, learning the ins and outs of the family ranch like his brothers before him.

It wouldn't be revealed until much later just what had started the fire in 1871, as the Winchesters were very meticulous when it came to how they ran things. But regardless of how it started, the fire cost the family a large sum in damage, days thrown off schedule, and ultimately the lives of both John and Mary. Despite the shock and grief, the Winchester family carried on. Both of the former Winchesters were buried in a private lot on the ranch under some shade trees where wild flowers grew in abundance; Mary had always voiced how she had loved this area of the property and it had seemed only appropriate that she lay to rest there, her husband at her side. Sam continued on in his studies back East, though he kept up a steady stream of letters exchanged with his brothers. Dean returned to the ranch and took over as "the Big Man" as well as taking on raising eleven year old Adam.

Dean had learned well how to run Sunglow from both of his parents, and even though there were a few difficulties in the beginning, their struggles eventually evened out and returned to normal. He ran things much the same way as his father; with a firm hand and a gentle voice. The Winchester Quarter horses were still the best in the area to buy, with their sturdy footing and endurance skills. With how well they were doing, Dean took a chance and bought a herd of seventy-five head of beef cattle from another rancher two towns to the west.

Two weeks after that, Dean became caught up in a whirlwind romance with one of the local ladies by name of Lisa Braeden. She was the new school teacher from Cicero, Indiana, and much like his father before him, Dean knew she was something special. He was entranced by her beautiful dark hair and eyes, stunning smile, and genuinely kind heart. They courted for a few months before finally marrying in 1872. Despite a few ups and downs, they got along well. They made a wonderful model couple for the times.

It felt good to have a woman's touch back at the ranch. Dean doted on her in any way he could, and it looked like things were finally looking up. It only got better for the oldest Winchester when it was announced that Lisa was pregnant. Dean was so happy, he kissed his wife and then jumped on the nearest horse, running it around the yard three times, whooping and hollering to beat the band before stopping it once more and embracing Lisa, kissing her again as Adam and the ranch hands watched utterly confused. That night, Dean wrote Sam the good news and told Adam he was to be an uncle.

May 15, 1873, Benjamin Isaac Winchester was born. He was a good boy as he grew. Apart from the occasional youthful fit, he was well behaved and often did what he was told with minimal complaint. In many ways he resembled Dean as he had been when he was a child, and often times he would wish his parents could still be alive to see their grandson. Adam adored being an uncle; when he wasn't working, he would scoop Ben up onto his shoulders and run around, eliciting wild giggles from the toddler as he was jostled by his uncle's gait, meant to mimic a loping horse.

For nine years, life at Sunglow ranch was good, peaceful, and plentiful. Flowers grew in the fields that weren't in use, and in the spring, new foals and calves romped and played until they were of age to be of use. Dean had expanded the ranch to a large spread of 4,000 acres (twice it's original size with plans to expand more when the time was right), which he and Adam managed with the help of their hired hands. Lisa still taught at the school, her own son one of her students when he wasn't needed at the ranch. Sam was now a bonafide lawyer and was married to the daughter of a banker, Eileen Leahy, and though he loved working for a big firm, he and Eileen often talked about moving back to Lawrence. Life was only looking up from their view through rose-colored glasses. But no one could have foretold the events that would unfold in 1882, marking the start of a legend that would be told for years to come.


	2. Hellbound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so here our actual story begins. I want to thank you again for reading this, and hope you enjoy it :) Just an aside, the reason I chose Eileen Leahy for Sam's wife instead of Jess is because I personally feel that Eileen's death was uncalled for and she deserved better. And while Jess's death was horribly sad too, she's in a bunch of stories already and I just felt like she needed this too. 
> 
> Of course, the usual: this fan fiction is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. The characters and Supernatural belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything. The only thing that belongs to me is the story itself. Please do not repost this anywhere else :)

Chapter 2: Hellbound

It was mid-September of 1882, and Dean was in Lawrence with a herd of thirty Quarter Horses to be sold at the local livery. He would stay in town for two nights, attend the auction the first day, and then on the second day he'd place orders for any needed items around the ranch with the general store before heading back with whichever horses didn't sell. They were in desperate need of more coffee as well as some other foodstuffs that Lisa had specifically requested. Not to mention, they also needed some yard goods that he would have to make another trip into town for when he had the planks on the flatbed fixed after he found some rain rot in the wood. If the horses sold well and there was any money that could be spared, Dean planned on buying some fabric for Lisa to make a new dress, some taffy or rock candy as a treat for Ben, and some more ammo for both him and Adam. They had all been working so hard lately that he figured they could do with something nice.

It was early afternoon and he had just arrived in Lawrence, immediately heading towards the livery to drop off all of his horses, including renting a stall and care for the mare he was currently astride. She was his favorite of the lot, sired from the bloodline of his father's best stallions and one of the mares Mary had often favored. He called her Baby since she was the youngest filly to be sired by the stallion, about seven years old, and he would eventually get a foal or two out of her as well. She had a sleek black coat with a single white sock on her back right foot. So far, Dean was the only one who was able to get up on her for more than thirty seconds at a time, and if he was being completely honest, that pleased him to no end. It was nice to have at least one thing to himself.

Once his horses were stabled and set, he walked down the wooden walkway the block and a half to the Lawrence Hotel to rent a room for two nights. Usually he wouldn't spring $2 a night at a fancy hotel when he could just sleep under the flatbed or in a bedroll under the stars. However, he was the only one in town this time since he didn't bring as big a herd as he normally did, so he figured he'd be generous this go 'round and sleep in a decent bed.

Room paid for, his next step was a hot meal and a maybe a round of poker or two before bed. The hotel's restaurant was nicely decorated, but a little too fancy for Dean's taste. He was a simple man who preferred simple furnishings, but he was used to this type of thing. It was more along the lines of the style Lisa would love. She liked to add a sense of fashion to the house, and as long as she didn't go overboard, he was fine with it.

Atmosphere aside, Dean sat in one of the booths, back to the wall so as to see his surroundings at all times (old habit), looking over the menu. He ended up ordering a steak, though once it was all said and done, he preferred the meals he got at home. He smirked to himself as the thought came to his mind. Apparently he was pickier than he cared to admit.

With his meal finished, he made his way to the saloon, walked up to the bar and ordered a pint of beer before making his way over to a table where a poker game was set up. He didn't want to play too many hands, just a few to pass the time and maybe pad his pockets a bit. He was dealt in with the next hand, and wasn't overly thrilled with the cards he got, but they would do. Once all exchanges and bets of a dollar each had been made, everyone showed their cards. Dean had three 10's, an 8, and a 5. The other players, a drunk named Chuck that often frequented the saloon (how he could afford it, Dean didn't know. Maybe he had money stashed somewhere?), Sheriff Cole Trenton, and a man Dean thought he recognized but couldn't place where from, all had less than desirable hands, leaving him with the highest hand and winning the pot. 

The unknown man in question was maybe in his fifties, with short graying hair and a cunning smile. To the untrained eye, he was very charming; flirting with the saloon gals and cracking jokes when one would come to mind. But Dean, who had a sharp eye when it came to shifty characters due to his bounty hunter years, a side of himself he never wanted Lisa or Ben to ever see, was not convinced. His movements were too sure and cocky like he didn't have a care in the world, and his coy smiles didn't quite reach his eyes. His eyes were the most memorable part of him. They were a sickly yellow caused by jaundice, but they were sharp to take in their surroundings. Call it instinct from past jobs, but Dean was vaguely aware of every movement the man made, just in case.

Dean collected his winnings from the first round, then placed another dollar on the table when he was dealt another hand. This hand was not a very good one at all. He traded out a few of them, gaining two of a kind but nothing special. It was most likely he would lose this round. Sure enough, the pot ended up going to the yellow-eyed stranger, who chuckled to himself. Dean rolled his eyes when the man wasn't looking, placing his money on the table when dealt in again. He turned slightly towards Cole instead.

"So, Cole, how's Sarah like being the wife of a Sheriff?" Cole smiled and huffed a quiet laugh as he exchanged some of his cards.

"She seems to have taken a liking to it. She was saying the other day how she wanted to pay a call to Lisa sometime soon." The group showed their cards again, this hand going to Chuck. Another round was dealt, this time the man with yellow eyes raising the stakes to $3. Chuck Shurley chose to bow out at this point, taking his drink with him as he wandered over to the other side of the saloon to talk to a girl. Dean and Cole put down their three dollars.

"Lisa would like that. She complains that she's surrounded by too many men all the time, so I'm sure it would be more than appreciated," Dean chuckled along as well. "Well boys, it was a nice run, but I believe this will be my last hand for the night." The hand he ended up playing a royal flush, winning the pot and effectively reimbursing the fee paid for the hotel and then some. The yellow-eyed man watched him as he gathered his winnings and stood to leave.

"That was quite a lucky hand, and just in the knick of time it seems," he said, his smile small and his eyes flat. Dean just gave him a dismissive smirk as he replied.

"Guess luck is just on my side friend. Evening boys." And with that, he turned and walked away. The man watched him go, his smile growing into a genuine sneer and muttering to himself in a mocking tone.

"See you around."

***

The two days in town felt like they had passed quickly and without a hitch. All in all, the horses sold very well. Twenty-seven of the thirty horses went, earning him about $2,500. This meant that he could not only buy the necessary items they needed, but also the extra treats for his family and still have some left over for savings. He bought Lisa a bolt of polished cotton that the store clerk described as periwinkle blue (or some such nonsense, Dean didn't know. He just thought it'd look pretty on Lisa) and a toy horse to go with Ben's rock candy, these items being his last purchases on this trip. 

He had already picked up his horses from the livery and had them hitched outside the store, one of the other horses cinched up to be ponied as a pack horse. He attached the sacks full of items to a little dun mare and, untying the other two extra horses, attached their leads to either side of the dun mare. Once satisfied, he untied the other two and mounted Baby and began his long trek home with the reins in one hand and the pony leads in the other.

The road between Lawrence and Sunglow Ranch was a fair distance but with a beautiful array of scenery. Green and tan fields went on for miles and the trees everywhere were beginning to change to bold red, oranges and yellows. The sky, reflected in the mirror-like lakes and rivers was a deep blue, the water rippling when a brisk breeze blew down from the surrounding mountains. Soon the days would become shorter and the weather cooler with the changing seasons. Already the horses' coats were beginning to thicken in preparation for colder weather. Birds sang along to the muffled sound of the horses' hooves along the dirt path, the leather of the saddle and other tack creaking with the sway of their steady pace.

It was a perfect day for a long ride. Dean loved it when it was like this, and on these trips when it was just him, it gave him a chance to just unwind and enjoy the ride; provided the horses all behaved, of course. He was looking forward to the next week or so. Sammy and his wife were moving back to Lawrence where Sammy was to set up his own firm. Dean honestly couldn't wait to see his brother again, and of course he was excited to meet his sister in law. Lisa was anticipating having another woman in the family close by as well; someone she could sew with or share recipes with 'who didn't stink from being out in the sunny fields all day' as she had playfully put it. Already for the past few months before the move they had been exchanging letters back and forth, and it made Dean happy to see.

In a couple day's time, he and Lisa, along with Ben and Adam would go into town to meet them as they got off the train. He had until then to get the flatbed ready to bring their belongings off the train to bring back to the ranch. Sam was convinced that they should get their own house in town so that he was in town if he was needed, but Dean was going to do his best to try and convince them to stay as long as possible. It had been too long since they'd seen each other. 

His mind continued to drift over many topics during the ride, and all the horses were very well behaved. It was very peaceful. Up until the point he got closer to the ranch that is. Dread and foreboding took up residence in his gut and his heart sank to join it. Someone was racing up the trail to meet him, which was uncommon for coming home from such a mundane, routine trip. From the way the rider was running the horse, it could only mean one thing; something was wrong. In a matter of minutes, Adam pulled his horse up in front of Dean, who stopped Baby and his little convoy. Dean's dread only increased when he saw the look on his brother's face and the bruises that marred it.

"What's wrong?" 

"A group of guys came through here yesterday evening, running their horses around and shouting a bunch. One or two had torches and they were firing their guns in the air a few times. Dean, they took the horses!" Adam was growing into a panic as he spoke.

"How many horses?" 

"All of them, except for the ones we had stabled. There's something else too, Dean. They got Lisa." Dean's whole world went silent with Adam's last sentence. He was vaguely aware that Adam was still talking, trying to apologize or something, but Dean wasn't listening. Immediately he threw Adam the leads to the dun mare and the other horses, who caught them midair, and immediately urged Baby into a gallop the rest of the mile to the Big House.

Baby hadn't even made it to a complete stop before Dean was out of the saddle and running into the house, shouting for Lisa and Ben. Ben, who was sat in a chair in the sitting room with their neighbor, Ellen Harvelle, sniffled as he got up and ran to his father with outstretched arms.

"Papa!" Dean bent and stooped down to his nine year old son and held him tight.

"Thank God you're safe!" Dean buried his face in his son's shoulder, trying to calm himself and stop trembling. This was going to be hard enough for Ben already, and Dean had to be strong for him. 

"They took Mama, Papa! She's gone!" Ben sobbed.

"I know, Ben. It's going to be okay, I promise."

He let go of Ben and stood up, then addressed Ellen, who was waiting patiently, her face solemn. Ben attached himself to Dean's leg, refusing to let go. Dean placed a hand on top of his head.

"Ellen, thank you so much for coming." Ellen's mouth lifted on one side, but not by much. 

"I'm glad I could be here for you boys," she said quietly. "Jo is looking after our ranch, so I'm here as long as you need me."

"Thank you. What happened? Adam said that a group of guys came through?"

"Yes. From what he told me, they came through after dark, making enough ruckus to wake the dead. When they started shooting, he took Ben and hid him in the storm celler before he ran back to Lisa, but they'd already gotten her." Ellen paused as Adam came in to join in the conversation.

"I tried to save her, Dean, really I did. They knocked me out before I could do anything. I'm sorry," he said, the guilt heavy in his voice and his eyes sad.

"It's okay, Adam, it wasn't your fault. Did you or anyone happen to get a good look at any of them?"Dean questioned, his mind turning business-like to avoid thinking to hard on these events and what they could mean for his wife.

"They were all in pretty rough shape, but in the fire light from one of their torches I was able to see some of their features. There was one with a short beard and mustache with a nasally voice. Another was kind of younger with blonde hair they kept referring to as 'Brady'. Oh, and this kind of older guy with thin hair, sneering smiles, and these yellow eyes; he seemed to be the one barking the orders." Realization froze Dean's blood in his veins only to be replaced with fiery hatred he hadn't felt in years.

"That son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, causing Adam, Ellen, and Ben to all flinch.

"Who?" Adam asked, frustrated at having been startled.

"Nothing. We gotta move. Go out and tell Garth to take Ash and Gadreel around take stock of how many horses were taken. I want an exact number. Ellen," Dean turned his attention to her. "Would you mind staying here and looking after Ben for a day or two?"

"Sure thing. I'll just need someone to ride out to my ranch and let Jo know." Dean turned back to Adam.

"Send Samandriel out to Ellen's to tell Jo that she's going to be staying here for the next couple of days. Tell him to have Jo pack up a few of Ellen's things so she has them as well. Then I want you to take Baby, cool her down and feed her, then stable her. I'm going to saddle Lisa's horse and him back into town to tell the Sheriff what's happened. Did anyone see which way they were headed?"

"Ash said they were headed South when all was said and done. But Dean, maybe I should come-" Adam began.

"Adam, don't start. Just go." Dean's tone left no room to argue and Adam immediately left to do as he was told. Dean knelt down in front of Ben again.

"Ben, I need you to stay here with Miss Ellen and Adam and to do as you're told, alright?" Ben sniffled, but nodded. Dean gave him a little smile and stood again, patting his shoulder. "That's my man." Ben went over to Ellen and took her hand. Dean went about gathering items he'd need to make the trip and within the hour, he was on his way back to Lawrence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three should not be too far behind. I'm going to try to update steadily, but things may get a bit behind what with life and all. So please just know, while updates may be a bit slow, they will continue and this will not be forgotten or abandoned ^_^ Thank you guys! Any questions or feedback are always welcome and appreciated!


	3. Tell 'Em I'm Coming, And Hell's Coming With Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, all! Thank you again for taking the time to read this fan fiction. Hoping you all are enjoying it :) 
> 
> The usual drill, this fan fiction is nonprofit and is simply for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belongs to Eric Kripke. The only thing I claim is the story itself. If you see any mistakes, have some feedback, or just want to say hi or need to talk to someone, feel free to drop a line. Thank you!

Chapter 3: Tell 'Em I'm Coming, And Hell's Coming With Me

Dean arrived at the Sheriff's house about 9:15 pm. He felt bad about the late hour, but this couldn't wait. He pounded on the door, shouting out for Cole a time or two before Cole Trenton finally opened the door in a night shirt and a pair of trousers that he must have pulled on moments before opening the door since the night shirt was half tucked.

"Dammit Winchester, what do you want? I thought you'd gone back home today," Cole said with a yawn. 

"Lisa has been taken." That brought Cole up short.

"What?" Dean raised his voice slightly, growing impatient. He knew this wasn't Cole's fault, but the more time they wasted, the further away they were getting with his horses and wife.

"Lisa and 3/4 of my horses have been taken. A group of guys came through led by that yellow-eyed son-of-a-bitch and took them. We gotta go after them!"

"Okay, give me just a second to put my boots on, then we'll go down to the jail and get this figured out." Cole closed the door, but returned moments later with boots and hat on, shirt tucked in, and gun strapped on. Donning his coat with his Sheriff's badge pinned to its breast, he and Dean walked down the way to the jail.

The jail was unsurprisingly empty when they entered. Lawrence was a pretty peaceful town. Apart from the occasional bar fight, not much crime was committed there. Cole went straight to his desk, half leaning and half sitting on it.

"Okay, tell me what happened." Dean recounted all of the details, on edge with his hands fisted at his sides. Cole listened closely as he spoke.

"So you're telling me it was that yellow-eyed fella we were playing poker with the other night?" Cole asked, attempting to get the details straight.

"Yes. That bastard say anything to you when I left?"

"Not really. We only played another two hands before he said he needed to get going. Said he had some work to do." A heavy silence rested for the moment it took for that to sink in.

"Shit..." Dean practically whispered, turning on his heel and beginning to pace. Removing his hat, he dragged a hand through his short hair. "We gotta go after them. Now."

"Hold on, Dean. You can't just go out after them on your own. We have to get a posse together, deputize them, and then get a plan of attack going. Not to mention, you can't just go out there gung ho and trigger happy." Dean took a calming breath with his jaw clenched, looking off to the left with a tight, distant look in his eyes. The wheels in his head were turning.

"Look, get some sleep, and in the morning we'll get some boys together and start getting a plan going. Sound good? You can even stay here if you want so you don't have to sleep outside or pay for a room," Cole offered, but Dean wasn't listening. Dean wheeled on Cole again.

"What if I got a group together? I know some boys from my bounty hunting days, and they'd be of better use to me than a bunch of grangers and townsfolk anyway. You could deputize me now, and when I get to where I know they'll be, you could wire the Sheriff there and have him deputize them." Cole considered this. He searched Dean's eyes and knew that it didn't really matter what his friend said. One way or another, he was going after them, starting tonight, deputized or not. Cole couldn't just let him go off as a revenge driven civilian, and he really didn't want to arrest Dean. He sighed.

"Alright." He turned to his desk, getting out a badge and a Bible. He held the Bible out to Dean. "Put your left hand on here, raise your right hand, and repeat after me." Dean did as was instructed, and, when it was all said and done, pinned the badge on his duster coat. He put his hat back on, then turned back to Cole.

"Thanks Cole. Adam said they were headed South, so I figure they probably passed either through or near Durango. I'm going to wire my buddies to meet me there; then I aim to take an early train out in the morning."

"Alright then. I'll wire the Sheriff there in Durango of the situation along with a request to deputize whoever you bring to him. I'll also get some dodgers out on the guys described by your brother and our friend with the yellow eyes. But listen here. Don't go getting too big for the law. I don't want to have to make any unnecessary arrests or have to go after them myself for your murder," Cole said sternly, his arms crossed over his chest. Dean playfully hit his shoulder.

"It's not me you should be worried about." Dean's tone turned serious then. "Listen, thank you, Cole. I'll wire an update when I can." Cole held out his hand, which Dean shook for a moment.

"It's no problem. Godspeed." And with that, Dean headed back out into the night to make the ride back home. 

***

When Dean arrived back home, he went straight to bed. He would need as much rest as he could get. He slept restlessly, put off by the empty spot next to him where he knew his wife should be. He was angry, and though he wouldn't admit it, he was afraid. There was only a few things that a woman would be kidnapped for, and those men didn't ask for a ransom. He vowed he'd find her, and end the men who had anything to do with this. Especially the yellow-eyed man.

A few hours later, before the sun had even began to rise, Dean awoke. The ranch was preparing for another day of work as best they could what with recent events having spirits low. Dean dressed and started packing for his trip while he filled Adam in on what was to happen. Among his essentials, Dean rolled up his bedroll and wrapped that in his rain slicker. This he would tie down behind his saddle. Ellen, who was now awake and had made herself at home in the kitchen like it were her own, packed him up a burlap bag with biscuits and some jerky. He thanked her when she handed it to him.

When he was ready to leave, the entire family and the hired hands had all gathered in front of the house to see him off. Already had he said his goodbyes to the hands, and now as he finished tying down the rifle scabbard on one side of his saddle and a shotgun scabbard on the other, he spoke to Adam with last minute instructions.

"Stick to our usual routines, and you'll do fine. Don't forget to get the flatbed fixed and pick up Sam and Eileen." He turned to face Adam fully, placing a hand on his shoulder. "And most importantly, take care of my boy and yourself. I can't lose anymore family." Adam nodded in return, but then embraced his brother in a brief hug.

"I will. Just find Lisa and hurry back." Dean gave him a little smile, another pat on his shoulder, then turned to Ellen. She embraced him in a tight hug, releasing him a moment later to look at him with motherly eyes.

"Shoot straight and be safe. Come back home to us." She gave him a teary smile. "And Dean? Give 'em hell."

"And then some," He gave her a tight smile then finally turned to his son. Ben was doing his best to mirror his father's stoic expression, though Dean could see through the cracks when Ben would sniffle or when he saw the thin line of tears that were lining his eyes. He pulled him into a tight hug.

"It's okay. It's going to be okay. You be good, alright? Help out around here?" He felt Ben nod and hold on just a bit tighter. When they released each other, Dean touched Ben's chin, giving him a grin too that Ben slightly returned. Goodbyes said, Dean turned to Baby and mounted her. He rode to the gate, turned in the saddle and gave one last wave before he continued on. 

The ride back to town was not like his ride home the day before. The sun was just beginning to peak over the mountains, and the air was brisk and cold. Everything, normally so full of color and life, was tinted a blue-gray, matching his mood. Since no one was watching him anymore, he dropped the confident devil-may-care facade. It was replaced instead with a side of him he mistakenly had thought he'd buried alongside his parents all those years ago, when he'd had to put on that false mask and be strong for everyone else. 

Anger fed into the restlessness that had removed him from his home when he was eighteen, building into a fire that would not be put out until the situation was rectified and justice served. When he had worked as a hired gun, and then eventually a bounty hunter, he had held himself to a code of righteousness that he refused to bend on. He hated when people stooped to such a low morality that they resorted to thieving and murder, among other amoral actions. But when his parents had died, he had been filled with anger and guilt that, since a definitive cause couldn't be placed on anything but apparent bad luck, was directed inward. Suddenly, the way he saw it, his code of conduct was tainted. His soul was blemished in sin and shame from the lives he had taken; now his parents added to that count. He should have been there. Should never have left. He was the oldest after all. He'd had responsibilities that he failed to upkeep, and his parents had paid the price.

Not once had he mentioned these feelings to anyone. Adam had needed him, the ranch needed someone to run it, and there was no way Dean was going to fail once again and make Sam give up his dreams and hard work to take things over and finish raising their youngest sibling. This was his job now, he was needed, and there was no room for internal drama. And for the years after he took over the ranch, he had successfully buried it. He still hated the man staring back at him in the looking glass, but that could be pushed aside by turning away. But now? 

His demons were back, and with them was a twisted chance at redemption. He would find Lisa, he would get his horses back, and Hell would follow in his wake for the men foolish enough to trespass against him. 

***

By mid-day, Dean had made it to Durango. He'd sent the telegram asking for his buddies to come meet him in Durango at the closest saloon to the livery in town before boarding the train. Currently he was seated at the saloon, downing a few shots of whiskey. He wasn't sure when the boys were going to show up, but in the mean time, he needed this. 

After an hour or two in the saloon, Dean set about asking around if anyone had seen any of the men that Adam had described, a woman who looked like Lisa, or a herd of horses being driven through the area. He didn't get much, but a few people mentioned seeing a cocky blond newcomer with another young man with curly red hair. They had purchased a large amount of ammunition and food, carrying it out of town on two pack-horses as well as their own mounts. Dean wasn't sure about the red haired guy, but he had a feeling this blond guy was the one called Brady. Not to mention the amount of items they purchased was way more than two men just passing through needed. They'd been through here. 

That afternoon, Dean took Baby and rode along the outskirts of town and the surrounding wooded area. There were many tracks on the ground, especially going in and out of town. But after two hours of searching and the help of whatever deity was smiling down on him, Dean managed to find a vague set of tracks about a mile out of town that veered off of one of the main roads and into a very forested area. Excellent. Now he had a lead. When the boys met up with him they'd start there.

When he got back into town and to his hotel, he received a telegram. It stated that his buddies would be in town in the morning and would meet him at his chosen place. Everything was falling into plan. He went to bed early that night, hoping to get as much rest as possible.

The next morning he was up with the sun. Breakfast was two eggs, some toast and some salt pork, but Dean hardly noticed the taste. He went down to the saloon not long after to wait, ordering some beer and settling in. His mind was a blur; his thoughts just kept circling around over the facts he knew, trying to think of anything else that might help catch those sons-of-bitches. So caught up in his thoughts as he was, Dean was ashamed of himself when a hand landed heavily on his right shoulder, catching him off guard. He whipped his head around, hand immediately going to the gun at his side, only to still a moment later when he registered who it was.

"Easy now, Brother. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were getting a little lax in that cozy life you've made for yourself." Dean's face lit up in a bright grin. Benny Lafitte stood behind him with Bobby Singer and Rufus Turner.

"It's not my fault I was blessed with the better looks AND the better business sense," Dean chuckled as he shook hands with Benny.

"Alright, alright. Are we going to stand around here yackin' like a bunch of school children, or are we goin' to get down to business? I'll get us a table, you go get the beer. You're buyin', boy," Rufus chided, already starting toward a table in the corner. Dean rolled his eyes, but after a quick pat on the back in greeting from Bobby, went to get the beer with Benny in tow.

"How you doing?" Benny asked quietly when they'd placed their order, just loud enough that only Dean could hear him. Dean took his time to answer.

"I'm as okay as I can be. But when we find those fucking bastards, it won't be me you should be worried about." Benny nodded, not fully believing Dean's tough-guy act. Dean and Benny had met back in 1868, when they both had been working as guns for hire. Hitting it off quick, they'd been friends ever since. They had made a good team, both of them broadly built and skilled in their work. Eventually they both decided bounty hunting was worth a shot.

It was in those days of bounty hunting they had also met Bobby and Rufus. Benny and Dean had been tracking a pair of outlaws that had been on the run for, ironically enough, horse thieving. The outlaws, proving to be worthy of the prices on their heads and using their knowledge of the wooded area they were occupying to their advantage, had managed to get Dean and Benny backed up into a corner in the side of a mountain. Bobby and Rufus, mountain men and fur traders who had been passing through the area when they'd heard shots ring out, investigated and intervened, shooting the outlaws down before they had a chance to get a shot off at the cornered boys. It was an embarrassing situation they had found themselves in, and the old coots would never let them live it down.

Of the two, Rufus was more tetchy, but under the curt attitude was a charm that was all his own. Bobby, while brusque as well, was really quite gentle once one got to know him and he and Dean became quite close. When Dean had to give all that up to take up ranching, they had all agreed to keep in touch. Benny still hired out, whether for a gun hand or laborer on ranches in the little town of Bayfield, West of Durango where Benny resided. Bobby and Rufus took back to the mountains and continued on fur trading, only meeting up a few times a year to take their furs to trading posts. Apart from the occasional telegram, it had been quite a while since they'd all seen each other.

The barkeep placed four pints on the bar, which Dean and Benny both took back to the table. They each took up a seat and settled in.

"Alright, boy, give us the details," Rufus said, straight forward as usual. Dean wasted no time telling them all he knew, including his recent discovery of the trail outside of town.

"So you're wanting us to get ourselves deputized and go after a gang of pin-headed outlaws?" Rufus asked, his face unreadable.

"Please. I know it's too much to ask, but I need your help." Rufus tipped back what was left of his beer before answering.

"Alright. I'm in."

"Us too," Bobby said, answering for Benny as well, who was nodding in agreement. Dean gave them a little smile.

"Thanks guys." It was at that moment that a man dressed in a black suit pulled out a chair at their table and promptly sat down, making himself comfortable. The four men bristled at the stranger, glaring at him in challenge. He seemed unaffected and gave them a sly grin.

"Hello, boys."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's chapter three. From this point on, the updates may not be as frequent, but fear not, this story will be completed. Alrighty, 'til next time! :)


	4. If the Devil Danced

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back :) I thank you once again for taking the time to read this story, and I hope it continues to deliver in the way of enjoyment. Speaking for myself, because I am the only one I can speak for of course, have been loving writing this for you. 
> 
> In the same way as usual of course, this story is non-profit and is solely for the enjoyment of the fans. I claim to own nothing but the story itself. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke.

Chapter 4: If the Devil Danced

"I think you're a little lost, Friend," Benny said, mildly hiding the frustration behind sarcasm. However, the stranger was unfazed. He continued to grin at the group of four.

"Oh no, I assure you, this is the correct table." The man sat back in his chair, a glass of bourbon in his hand as he made himself comfortable.

"Cut the chit-chat. Who are you, what do you want?" Bobby said, already annoyed with their unwanted guest.

"Name's Crowley. From the sounds of it, you boys are about to head out on some noble quest, am I right? Well, I so happen to have something-" Dean cut him off before he could get any further.

"Look, whatever you're selling, we aren't interested. Take your shit and move on." The man turned his gaze to Dean. His British accent grew more coarse and serious.

"The only thing I'm 'selling' here is my precious time and services. From what I've just heard amongst you biddies is that you are going into a fight you are barely equipped for. Two boys out of practice and two old codgers going up against a whole group of seasoned outlaws? You won't get very far."

"How do you know we're out of practice?" Benny questioned.

"The fact that your 'cozy living' is showing, more so than if you lived out on the trail."

"Oh, you mean kinda like your own? Pretty sure your 'living' is a little more cozy than any of ours," Dean said without missing a beat. Both Bobby and Rufus started choking on their beer, and Benny chuckled under his breath. Crowley huffed a sigh, showing his annoyance for the first time. 

"Very funny. But the fact remains. You are out-numbered and out-skilled. Now I can set you up with two more sets of hands, ones that ARE in practice."

"Now why exactly do you care, huh? What's in this for you? You can't just be offering this out of the kindness of your heart," asked Bobby. Crowley shrugged, back to smiling.

"We all have to make a living. This is how I make mine. I make deals. So here's my offer: a friend of mine and myself accompany you boys on your escapade. We lend a hand when things get a little  
unfriendly, and all it will cost you is $500." The eyes all around the table go wide at the mention of the price. 

"$500? Are you crazy? Why would I pay you $500 for a job we can do ourselves?" Dean laughed, disbelieving at the man. He and the boys might be in a little over their heads, but surely they could do this themselves, right?

"Because you can't just do it yourselves and make it out unharmed, and you know that. You are out-manned and out-skilled. But, hire my friend and I, and you'll have the sharp skills of someone who makes their living off of this type of work in the here and now. You can go ahead and do it yourselves, but wouldn't you sleep better knowing you did ALL you could to get your love and property back? Isn't she and her safety worth more than a measly $500 to you?" Crowley paused, letting this sink in. Dean glowered at him, then leaned towards him menacingly.

"I'd give my life for her." The man chuckled at this, much to Dean's increasing annoyance.

"Do it on your own, and you very well may get to prove that. But," he said, his voice low and coaxing, pausing for effect, "hire us, and she's as good as back safely in your arms." Dean paused. He looked to Benny, then Bobby and Rufus, who were all watching him.

"As much as I hate to admit it, the more hands, the better the outcome, Brother," Benny advised quietly. Dean turned his glare back to the finely dressed man.

"Do we have a deal?" Crowley asked, grinning like the cat who caught the canary and holding out his hand. Dean glared at the outstretched hand, hesitating before grabbing it tightly. He pulled the man forward, and gave a little smug grin of his own when the hard motion wiped the smirk of the guy's face.

"Deal. But here's an addendum to it. I'm calling the shots, and you'll get paid after the job is done. That's a lot of money, and I want to make sure I get my money's worth. I'll give you $50 now, as a form of down-payment. You and your buddy are going to get deputized so I don't get into any trouble for some idiots death by some trigger-happy hired gun hand. Got it?" The man didn't look entirely too pleased with this, but he only hesitated briefly before accepting the terms. 

"Great. Go get your friend and meet us at the Sheriff's office in an hour. We start immediately." Dean released Crowley's hand harshly and stood up. He fished $50 out of the small bag of money he had stashed in a pocket in the vest he had on, slapped it down on the table in front of the man, and, downing the rest of his drink, walked away and out of the saloon. Benny and the others followed him without another word to Crowley. Crowley sighed then went to go tell his friend the happy news, muttering something about functional morons.

An hour later, Dean and the boys were standing around in the Sheriff's office of Durango and talking with the good Sheriff. Victor Henriksen had worked hard to get into the position of Sheriff and he took his job very seriously. When Dean had explained the situation, accompanied by the telegram from Cole Trenton, he agreed to deputize them with minimal hesitation. Now they were only waiting for Crowley and his buddy to show up.

They had asked Henriksen what he knew about Crowley, but all he could tell them was that Crowley hadn't been in town very long. As far as he could tell, Crowley didn't cause trouble and, apart from his smug personality, he seemed alright. The buddy was more of a mystery to him, as he hadn't been aware Crowley had been traveling with anyone.

It was another fifteen minutes before Crowley walked in, followed by a guy who could be none other than the friend Crowley had mentioned. However, he was nothing like Dean had expected. He was shorter than Dean had preconceived, and while at first glance he might seem to lack in muscle, upon looking closer Dean could tell he was actually just lean. He wore a tan colored duster trench coat that looked to be a size or two too big, and dusty black pants accompanied by a black vest over a gray shirt. His face was soft angles, high cheekbones, and pale chapped lips. Hidden under short, messy, black hair and a black hat were the bluest eyes Dean had ever seen. Dean stared for the briefest of moments, eyes locked with this man, before he broke the staring match to turn to Crowley.

"This is your guy?" he asked, pointing to the blue eyed guy. "Is he even old enough to be out doing this?" Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see the guy tilt his head a little, his brow furrowed and slightly glaring. 

"Yes, he's old enough, and believe me, he's worth having along. This is Castiel. Now, I thought you were in a hurry," Crowley said, raising his eyebrows. Dean gave one last fleeting look at the guy, Castiel apparently, then shrugged. As much as it annoyed Dean to say, Crowley was right. Henriksen took that as his cue. He swore each of them in, and was finished before the hour was even out. He watched as they all filed out of the office before getting back to his work.

"Alright, you guys go get your horses and anything else you think you might need. Meet back at the Southern end of town and we'll start from there," Dean stated, then turned to Crowley and Castiel. 

"There's a trail a little ways out of town. That's where we're going to start. Let's go." He spared them no pleasantries, but instead immediately went to go collect his horse and grab some more ammo.

By the time Dean rode up on Baby to the south end of town, the others had gathered and were waiting for him. They looked to him expectantly.

"The trail I found earlier is about a mile out this way. Come on." He urged Baby forward at a slow lope, making it easily to the area where Dean had found the tracks. "There. They go back further in." Dean had barely finished speaking before Castiel dismounted his little red mare. He bent down low to the ground, inspecting the spattering of tracks that littered the area.

"Some of the tracks are faded, but there's enough of them here to prove that there was a large group traveling through here, either all were on horseback or this is indeed the way the herd of horses were driven. Much of the foliage is broken and bent over heading in that direction, and there are boot prints. The tracks are fairly aged by now." He pointed in the direction heading away from the direction of the town. "It is likely they camped the herd and the rest of their gang around this area while the two you learned about acquired supplies. Then they moved out, cutting a trail directly through the area to avoid common traffic on the road." Castiel walked back to his mare and mounted her. However, he made no further move, instead leaning on the horn of the saddle and looking to Dean.

There was something about this guy that just stood out to Dean that he couldn't place. He had come into contact with many different types of people through the years, and what he was getting from Castiel wasn't necessarily something bad, but it wasn't something he trusted either. The guy's voice was raspy, like he'd smoked a lot and his words came out almost on a mumble. Dean couldn't tell if he genuinely sounded like that, if he just smoked more than he probably should, or if it was caused by something else entirely. His body language was easy and relaxed like he was in his element, but his expression was stoic and unreadable. If he had something to hide, that would be a good talent to have, and if Dean had to wager anything, he would put money down that this guy had one hell of a poker-face. Maybe after they'd made camp later he could put that theory to the test. But there's were things to do first that were a little more important than Castiel. It took Dean a second to come out of his thoughts. The guy's eyes were trained directly into Dean's, just staring expectantly and emotionless. 

"Alright, all follow the tracks, but keep an eye out for anything we might have missed," he commanded. Castiel immediately straightened in his saddle then urged his mare to move, turning her to the direction the tracks were heading in and continuing without hesitation. Crowley huffed quietly to himself, a curious little smirk on his lips but began to follow Castiel before Dean could question it. As he and the others fell into step behind them as well, Dean glared imaginary holes into the back of Crowley's head before turning his attention back to the tracks and the trail they were taking. He didn't know what that look was for, but he didn't like it.

By the end of the day, they had stopped and made camp in a nice little wooded area with enough level ground for all of their bedrolls and a small fire. With one exception, that is. While the others all set up their own rolls around the little fire after a meal of cornbread and beans for the night, Castiel had wandered off into the dark alone. He had been gone for a while now, and in Dean's mind, that didn't bode well for the rest of them.

"Hey, Crowley. Your guy has been gone a while now." When Crowley only looked at him with raised eyebrows, he tried again. "Little concerning, don't you think?" The shorter man simply brushed the concern aside.

"Oh, Castiel won't be sleeping here. He prefers to keep his distance from people. Trust issues, you understand." Crowley huffed another quiet laugh then wiggled until he was comfortable laying in his bedroll. Dean rolled his eyes then turned his gaze in the direction of where Castiel had wandered off, almost trying to will himself to see anything but seeing nothing. One thing that he did know for sure though, was that there was something off about this Castiel guy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo there we go. Any thoughts on Cas? The rest of the company? How about the story itself? I'm trying to keep up on updates, I promise. 
> 
> Some fun facts:  
> -In this time period, $1 = $22.18  
> -"Biddies" are either elderly women that are annoying and interfering or is another term used for young chickens  
> -Grangers (a term used in one of the previous chapters) are farmers  
> -In my fan-works, I like to include little nods to other things like fandoms, characters, scenarios, etc, so if sometimes you may come across a little easter egg or something with a double meaning. For instance, sometimes the chapter titles will be in reference to something. (i.e. this chapter's title is also a country song whose lyrics I found a little appropriate for the situation)
> 
> If you would be interested, I could include some sound tracks of songs and ambiance sounds/music that, for myself at least, help immerse the reader into the world of which their reading. Interested??? Let me know :) Anyway, until next time, goodbye.


	5. Impressions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Welcome back and thank you again for reading this fan fiction. Per the usual, this is a non-profit project solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belongs to Eric Kripke and the only thing that belongs to me is the story itself. I really hope that you're all enjoying this story as much as I am writing it for you. PLEASE SEE DOWN BELOW FOR MORE NOTES.

Chapter 5: First Impressions

When Dean woke the next morning, he was vaguely aware of someone moving around their little camp. Dean sat up quickly, disoriented. He snatched his gun up in hand from where he kept it tucked under his bedroll and aimed without hesitation at the figure sitting oposite him on the other side of the fire by where Crowley's feet lay, him snoring away. His hard glare softened to puzzlement as he and Castiel stared at each other from across the blaze. 

Dean lowered the gun a second later, a little sheepish at his brash action. Castiel, however, seemed fairly unaffected, apart from a little surprise. However, a second later he was returning to the small tin of coffee he had brewing over the fire. Blinking, Dean looked around, trying to get his bearings. 

It was still pretty dark out, which meant that it was very early morning. He was apparently only the second one awake, Castiel being the first. The man in question was blowing on his tin of coffee and then taking a sip; he didn't bat an eye at Dean's presence again, and it was as if he wasn't even there. Looking around him, Dean found his tin as well and began brewing his own coffee. The minutes ticked by in silence, and though they didn't know each other, it didn't really feel all that awkward. They just sort of accepted that the other was there, and just moved around each other. It was equally odd and welcome, and as the time stretched on, it became fairly comfortable.

While he fixed his coffee, Dean somewhat watched Castiel out of the corner of his eye. The man was currently munching quietly on a biscuit from the previous night dinner, staring into the fire. Every so often, he would reach out a hand and warm it up, then grip his tin again. Dean did not interrupt Castiel in this, but busied himself instead with digging out his own biscuit for his morning meal to go with his coffee. The first strong, bitter taste of the coffee did wonders at waking him up so he was at least mostly functional, and he had to hold back a quiet sound as he savored it.

Dean was fairly inept in the mornings until he had had his coffee, and it was no different that morning, with a few exceptions. His thoughts were surprisingly quiet considering their circumstances; not to say that he had forgotten about the situation at hand. It was actually quite the contrary. The quiet allowed for him to focus on what they needed to do to be ready to head out back on the trail, as well as attempting to strategize a way to take the rustlers down. He wouldn't be able to have a definitive plan until they had finally caught up with the band of jackasses, but he could at least speculate for the time being. He needed it. Every minute he did nothing was another minute Lisa's life and the herd were in danger, and that was a very disconcerting and unpleasant thought.

After he downed his coffee, he set about waking up properly the rest of the way and began his morning routine. He went off a ways and relieved himself, then went over to check up on Baby. She was hobbled with the other horses, munching contentedly on the grass in the surrounding area that they had roped off the previous night. He used the brush he had brought with him to brush her down, enjoying the lulling monotone scrape as the brush passed through her dark fur.

One of the other horses, Castiel's ironically and the only one NOT hobbled interestingly enough, eventually wandered over curiously to investigate the strange human. However, Baby wasn't having it, and the closer the little red mare got, the further back Baby's ears got pinned to her head. Baby swished her tail and stomped her foot unhappily in warning, and when this was ignored, she lunged a few steps toward her with her ears back, head down, and teeth bared. The other mare sidestepped into a trot and, deciding that Dean really wasn't all that interesting after all, wandered off to stand with Crowley's mare instead. Baby turned back to Dean, ears happily forward again and she sniffed at his hands, as if looking for some sort of reward for keeping the new mare away and Dean successfully to herself. All she received for her efforts, however, was a chuckle from Dean and a scratch on the neck. When no further reward was offered, Baby huffed and wondered off to continue grazing, swishing her tail at the flies that were beginning to wake with the rising sun. Dean shook his head and huffed a laugh. Mares and women; one in the same.

Dean turned to head back to the camp, but just about jumped out of his skin when he immediately bumped into Castiel, whom he had not heard walk up. Dean gasped, clutching at his heart, which was currently trying to burst from his chest; a feat not often accomplished with him.

"Jesus, Cas! Don't do that! Fuck!" He looked to the sky then closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. Castiel only squinted at him, head slightly cocked.

"I apologize. I did not realize that you had not heard my approach," came his response, his voice the same raspy monotone as before. 

"Well, warn a guy next time, for fuck's sake." When he straightened back up again, his breathing and heart rate a little more under control, he was practically nose to nose with Castiel, who had not moved back when Dean had run into him. Dean just gave him a weird look and took his own step back to put some space between them. They stood there in a now awkward silence until Castiel turned his gaze from Dean and to the horses.

"You seem to mean quite a bit to your mare," he commented. Dean blinked at Castiel's profile for a second, then cocked an eyebrow and shrugged to himself. A tad random, but a subject Dean could definitely get behind. He knew horses.

"I like to think so. She's usually a pretty tough nut to crack, but once she's accepted you, you're pretty much a part of the herd." Castiel huffed a quiet laugh through his nose.

"Ruffian's a bit of the opposite. She's very curious and loves to be center of attention. It would not surprise me if she made another attempt to win your affections again soon."

"It'd surprise me. Horses can usually tell about a person right away, after all," Dean said, half to himself. They both watched the horses graze for a few moments in silence after Dean's statement. By this point in the morning, everything around them was beginning to wake. Morning fog was billowing in wisps across the dew covered grass in the cold air. Birds were just beginning to stir, and somewhere the deer were most likely grazing their first meals of the new day. It was a very peaceful beginning to a long day.

Eventually, Dean turned to Castiel, who's intensely blue eyes were still watching the horses graze and interact. Just from the little bit that he'd seen, Cas was a very strange little guy. He didn't seem to talk much, and when he did, it was obvious he had put much thought into it, sure of his words. Still, if he was being honest, and just going off of the minimal time they'd all spent together, he'd rather Castiel over Crowley.

"So," he began, hoping to strike up some form of conversation. "You seem like a fairly nice guy. How'd you end up working with the likes of a guy like Crowley? I mean, how did you guys even become friends?" There was a moment before Castiel answered, like he was choosing the best way to answer.

"I used to work alone. Hiring out to anyone who would hire me, though there weren't many who would at the time. As you've probably seen, he's very opportunistic and will take the chance to make a good deal if one ever come up, and while I was in a little town up North tracking some fugitives on the loose, he approached me offering up a deal. A partnership in an investment of some sort. I turned him away. I thought that would be the end of it, and we went on about our own separate business. Unfortunately, I ended up in a bit of a tight spot and Crowley stepped in to help. We've just been working together ever since. He's much better at collecting clientele." Dean let this sink in for a minute. 

"From what I've seen of him, you've gotta be one patient and tolerant son-of-a-bitch to partner up with the likes of him." This time it was Castiel's turn to hum a quiet agreement in response, and just like that, the subject was dropped and they slipped back into silence. Not that Dean minded. It was a very peaceful morning.

"I'm sorry for what happened to your wife and herd," Castiel said quietly. Dean turned to him momentarily.

"It's not your fault."

"All the same," came Castiel's only response. Dean didn't know what to say to that, so instead remained silent. About that time, sure enough, Ruffian moseyed back over to where they stood, this time without Baby to run her off. She sniffed both of their hands, relishing in the neck scratches; particularly when Castiel scratched what must have been her sweet spot at the base of her neck by her shoulders. She stretched her neck as far as she could, her head tilted to the side, the horse equivelent to a dog thumping his foot when their belly is scratched in that one sweet spot. Dean chuckled at the display. The companionship between the man and his horse was an interesting one to watch, and Castiel definitely knew his horsemanship; a quality that Dean definitely marked as tally in Cas' favor. 

Castiel had a small smile tilting his lips as he scratched her, obviously enjoying himself as well. He turned to Dean and, catching his eye, cleared his throat and side-stepped, making room for Dean to take his place. Dean did, starting up where Castiel had left off and getting the same reaction from the mare.

"You see? Sometimes first impressions are not all that they appear." Dean smiled at this, looking at Castiel to chuckle at his mare's shameless display of pleasure. Castiel gave him that same small smile, then turned, walking back to the camp. Dean laughed and continued to scratch the mares neck, who was just eating up the attention. And the more he thought about it, he couldn't help but wonder if what Castiel had said meant something more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so admittedly this chapter is a little more exposition than anything else. But of course, we all know that a story can't all be action all the time. This hopefully gives a little bit more insight to Castiel and gives him and Dean a few minutes to just have in quiet. Please tell me if this scene seemed to move too quickly, and I will fix it accordingly. However, that being said, I hope that you enjoy it. 
> 
> ATTENTION: I would also like to comment on my mention of hobbling horses up above in text. Hobbling horses out on the trail was a common way to let the horse graze freely without them getting too far away from the campsite. Though not commonly seen in modern settings, it is still used to this day. HOWEVER, it should only be used by PROFESSIONALS and only in the proper way. IN NO WAY should anyone try this on their horse without proper reason (certain types of training, breeding, etc) and professional supervision (in today's society there's really no use for it on the everyday household horse, so don't do it). For more information on this subject, go to http://thinklikeahorse.org/index-12.html .
> 
> Extras:  
> -sounds that might be heard during the ride back from Lawrence to Sunglow Ranch in the first few chapters could be heard and imagined here at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MuvifHQ_5QI
> 
> Please ignore the whispering and the video and just concentrate on the audio of the leather of the saddle and the hooves of the horse and you will hear exactly what Dean was hearing. 
> 
> -https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wxgk8sX_jOM  
> is what might be an example of what would be heard in the saloons Dean visits
> 
> Please let me know your thoughts, questions, concerns (anything really) in the comments below, and hope you are enjoying the story. 'Tah 'til next time!


	6. Chapter 6: The End of An Era

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE SEE THE WARNING UNDER THE GREETING!!!!
> 
> Thank you for taking time to read this story, and I really hope you enjoy it. This fanfiction is nonprofit and is simply just an idea I had in passing that wouldn't leave me be. It is solely written for the enjoyment of the fans. I do not own any of the characters in this story, as they belong to their creator, Eric Kripke. No copyright infringement is intended by the writing and creation of this story.
> 
> WARNING: The end of this chapter will mark when the darker themes of this story really begin to show. If you are easily triggered, or do not like stories with darker themes, please be warned that these themes (up to and including graphic violence, the mention of, and attempt of, rape) and please take that into consideration before going forward in the story.

Chapter 6: The End of An Era

Dean didn't stay with the horses much longer after Castiel left. They needed to hurry up and get back on the trail. The bit of peace that they managed to find in those few moments was nice, but the more awake Dean became, the more he felt the urgency to get back to it. When he got back to the campfire, everyone else was either already awake. Benny was rolling up his bedroll while Rufus and Bobby grunted back and forth at each other over their tins of coffee. However, Castiel and Crowley seemed to have suddenly disappeared. Dean shook his head. He better not have to go track them down to keep them all on schedule. He walked over to where his bedroll lay next to Benny and stooped to roll it up and pick up his area. 

"Where'd our new friends run off to?"

"Mornin' to you too, Brother," came Benny's answer. "Crowley went off to do his morning business, and Castiel just wandered off just before you got here." Dean nodded in acknowledgement.

"Yeah, well, let's just hope they get a move on and don't hold us up." The conversation, brief as it was, ended with that as they packed their belongings. When Cas and Crowley finally made their way back to the campfire (which Benny had actually just put out), Dean and the others had everything ready to go.

"Nice of you to join us," Dean said gruffly. Crowley seemed unaffected and merely sauntered over to his belongings.

"You shouldn't get your tail in such a bunch, Squirrel. It only exposes all sorts of sensitive spots," came his response. Dean rolled his eyes.

"Look, just shut up and get a move on. You're wasting time." He turned his glance to Castiel who was staring into the wisps of smoke from the extinguished fire.

"What are you waiting for?" Castiel didn't even look at Dean.

"I've already gotten ready. We can leave as soon as Crowley is ready," came his monotone reply, not even looking at him. It was much colder than Castiel had been out by the horses, but Dean supposed he kinda deserved it. Oh well. He'd get over it.

Fifteen minutes later, they were all saddled, mounted, and well on their way. Most of their morning ride was spent in silence; that is until around noon, when Crowley began to suggest (in a no-very-subtle way) that they stop for dinner. He was beginning to grate on everyone's nerves, especially Dean's. Even Castiel's brows were furrowing together in annoyance the longer Crowley went on. It was another half hour before they found a good stopping point and settled down to a lunch.

Conversation was shared by all, Castiel being the only exception. He would give a little response here and there, but nothing groundbreaking or in detail. After lunch, they carried on, following the trail that weaved through forest trails headed South. This was the pattern that they established and followed over the next two days. At one point in the early afternoon they passed through a little town that didn't have much to it, where they stopped to water their horses, but were on their way again within the hour.

Along the way, the outlaws had attempted to put off any pursuers they might have by erasing part of the trail, or making tracks in another direction and then doubling back. However, they were half-hearted attempts at best and with tracking skills each of the men on the posse equally possessed, they might as well have not even tried such feeble attempts. Either the bastards really sucked at covering their tracks, or they simply did not care. Looking back on his impression of the yellow-eyed man, Dean guessed by his cocky nature that it was the latter.

So far, there hadn't been any sightings of any of the outlaws or the horses, but Dean had high hopes that they were catching up. The bastards hadn't gotten very much of a head start, and they'd been traveling very diligently, despite the lead in Crowley's ass in the tired little moments. So when they heard a twig snap close to the outskirts of their campsite for the night, their guns instantly in their hands, barrels trained on the sound's source. Immediately, however, Dean lowered his weapon when he recognized the massive man standing before him with his hands raised.

"Sammy?"

"Hey, Dean. Been a while."

"What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be back at the ranch." Dean returned his gun to its holster and strode forward, yanking Sam into a tight hug.

"You think I'm going to let you just go out and take on a mob of outlaws looking for blood on your own?" he replied, returning the hug.

"You're supposed to be taking care of the ranch," Dean said, releasing him and stepping back.

"Adam can do that. He's learned plenty from you over the years and he's plenty old enough. You need me, and I'll be damned if I stand by and let someone mess with our family and get away with it." Sam shook his head. Dean gave a small smile and patted Sam's shoulder in quiet gratitude. He turned back to the group of men behind him, who had stowed their weapons as well.

"Sam, this is Benny, Bobby and Rufus; the ones I wrote to you about," he said, pointing the each out in turn. "And that's Crowley and his buddy Castiel. They're hired guns."

"It's nice to meet you all," Sam said, nodding to the group. "I'm Dean's younger brother, Sam." Bobby stood and offered his hand, which Sam shook.

"Nice to finally put a face to the name. Dean has told us a lot about you over the years."

"'A lot' don't begin to cover it," Rufus said from where he still sat, though he did give a little wave and nod in greeting. When Sam looked to Castiel and Crowley, Castiel merely gave a little nod and turned his gaze to the fire, causing Sam to cock an eyebrow curiously. Crowley, however, who had grown quite accustomed to the current company, was a little more bold with his greeting. 

"A pleasure, I'm sure. Though I have to say, it's the first time I've ever made the acquaintance of a moose."

"A moose?" Sam questioned innocently.

"Yes, though I am surprised that a moose can be related to a squirrel." Sam and Dean looked at each other in confusion, then turned their puzzled gaze back to Crowley again. Beside him, Castiel rolled his eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?" demanded Dean impatiently. Crowley smirked.

"Really, between your incessant impatience in everything you do, and your brother's towering height, surely even you can make an accurate conclusion as to what I mean." At this, Benny, Bobby, and Rufus chuckled quietly amongst themselves. Sam shot Dean a look of shocked surprise while Dean only glared at Crowley.

"Keep in mind, I AM your current employer, and so far I'm not much impressed by your performance, or lack thereof. I can easily fire you and save myself a chunk of money." Crowley clutched his chest in mock horror.

"And put Castiel and I out of a job with no money to our name? Have you no humanity?"

"Oh no, you misunderstand me. Cas can stay. He's actually pulling his weight with the tracking, and he's not near a pain in the ass." Dean smirked sarcastically as the smile fell from Crowley's face. He said nothing in return and turned his attention to the fire.

"That's what I thought," Dean said, and just before he turned back to Sam, he caught a small smile playing on Castiel's lips. Sam huffed silently at the exchange, eyebrows raised at his brother.

"Come on," Dean gripped Sam's shoulder, turning him to where his horse stood behind him a few feet away. "Let's get you settled and then we can catch up." The two brothers spent the rest of the evening setting up Sam's bedroll next to Dean's, getting Sam a bit of the dinner that they'd prepared, and visiting. Dean proudly showed Sam Baby and told him of his plans to get a few foals out of her. Sam was proud of his brother, and found his enthusiasm for the mare and his future plans amusing. In turn, he told Dean about how things were going in setting up his own law firm. He was really coming along.

"You've done good. I'm proud of you," Dean smiled at his brother, who grinned, looking down.

"Thanks. There's something else," Sam paused, drawing in a deep breath. "Eileen thinks she may be expecting." He looked up to gauge his brother's reaction. Dean delayed for all of three seconds as the news sank in before he was beaming from ear to ear.

"Holy shit, that's amazing Sam! Congratulations!" Immediately Dean grabbed Sam again, giving him a tight hug and laughing happily. Sam chuckled as well when he was released.

"Thanks. It's still pretty early to really tell, but all the signs are pointing to it. We're holding off telling everyone 'til we know for sure, but I wanted to tell you."

"I'm glad you did. That's... that's really great Sam. You're going to make an incredible dad." Sam smiled tenderly.

"Thank you, Dean. That means more than you could know." They smiled at each other and lapsed into a comfortable silence. Crickets were chirping all around them in their nightly chorus. 

"So," Sam began a moment later, "Crowley is certainly an interesting character." Dean scoffed.

"That's a nice way of putting it. And he just gets better from here," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes and causing Sam to chuckle.

"So I saw. How did you even come to hire him? I mean, why him of all people?"

"I don't know. We needed help, and he was offering. I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth, but on reflection maybe I should have." Sam and Dean both chuckled.

"So, Castiel is pretty peculiar too, though a lot more tolerable. He came with Crowley? How'd they end up working together? They don't exactly seem like a pair that would really work well together."

"I don't know much, really. Crowley had Cas' back at some point, and now Crowley is the fisherman for their business. He's kind of an odd little guy, but not altogether bad to be around." Sam cocked an eyebrow at him.

"Made a new friend, have you?" Dean huffed.

"I'm just saying, between Cas and Crowley, Cas is definitely preferred." Sam smiled and laughed.

"Clearly," he said. They slowly began making their way back to the campfire, lapsing into a comfortable silence. By the time they got back, Castiel was gone and the others had gone to bed.

"Where's Castiel?" asked Sam, noticing the absence.

"Oh, he doesn't sleep with the group. Trust issues, or something. I don't know." Dean said waving it off as he and Sam crawled into their respective bedrolls. Dean rolled over onto his side while Sam lay on his back.

"Huh. Odd."

"Like I said," muttered Dean, "weird little guy." Sam chuckled, which made Dean smile to himself.

"Goodnight, Bitch."

"Goodnight, Jerk."

***

One o'clock the next day, there was finally a new development, and not one any of them would likely forget. They'd hit an area with a lot of rocks, and none of them expected a shot to ring out and just barely miss Bobby by at least a foot. Immediately they were on the defense. They dismounted in seconds and ducked for cover behind any big rocks the could find and had their guns in their hands.

"Hello there!" a voice rang out. "What's the matter? Don't want to play?" The group of seven exchanged glances until Dean made the executive decision to handle the situation himself.

"I don't play with jackasses!" He shouted. The voice laughed obnoxiously.

"That's too bad! 'Cuz we have lots of fun! Especially with our new toy!" Dean's blood ran cold and the others' eyes darted to him, watching him carefully.

"Still so sure you don't want to play? It's awful fun!" Dean stood and fired off three shots, just in time to see a figure dart behind a rock.

"You son of a bitch!" Dean shouted. He stood there, unafraid and seething. The figure did not reappear at first.

"Not too good with sharing, are you? I'll tell you what then, you can have her back! We're done with her anyway!" And with that, the figure hauled something to the edge of the hill he was on, and pushed in down. It rolled to the base of the hill and came to a stop in a motionless heap. The others began peeking from behind where they hid.

"Compliments of Azazel!" The figure shouted and then turned and ran off. Dean could do nothing more in those few seconds than stand in shock, looking at the heap still laying there. He'd recognize that nightgown anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the length of time it took to get this chapter out. I don't want to sound like I'm just listing off a bunch of excuses, but work and life sometimes can be overly time consuming. Don't they know we have fan fiction to write and enjoy??? Gosh. Anyway, I'm still working on everything and even if it takes a bit of time to get each chapter out, I hope that you guys stick with me. 
> 
> As far as what lies ahead in the story, I am sorry if it makes anyone uncomfortable. But of course, in a story that is supposed to be true to life and what not, things like this did in fact happen from time to time and as horrible as they are, just pretending they didn't happen isn't necessarily good either. However, I'll try to find some way for people to still read it without having to actually read the really dark stuff. In the meantime, more good stuff is on the way too, so fear not, friends! It's not all dark, doom and gloom. I just implore you, please try to stick with me, it WILL get better.
> 
> Anyway, hope you all are still enjoying it, and I'll see you in the next chapter!


	7. Death Do Us Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So a DISCLOSURE before we begin: as I mentioned previously, things will be pretty dark here and there. But I promise the good stuff (fluff and love, man!) will all be there too. Life is, after all, filled with harsh realities and those beautiful precious moments that make it all worth while. Any concerns or questions, please feel free to ask :) Shall we?
> 
> Thank you for taking time to read this story, and I really hope you enjoy it. This fanfiction is nonprofit and it is solely written for the enjoyment of the fans. I do not own any of the characters in this story, as they belong to their creator, Eric Kripke. No copyright infringement is intended by the writing and creation of this story.

Chapter 7: Death Do Us Part

Dean hardly noticed when someone off to his left rushed forward after the outlaw, letting out a long, loud whistle as they went. He vaguely registered the thud of hoof beats and the dash of red as Ruffian took off in the same direction. Castiel stopped when Ruffian skid to a stop in front of him and climbed up into the saddle in record time. Immediately, they turned on Ruffian's heel and they were off in pursuit.

But instead of acknowledging this, Dean moved on automatic before crouching down beside the heap on the ground. He gently rolled it over and closed his eyes when he saw Lisa's face; bruised, chapped, and cut up. Her nightgown was torn, barely giving her a shred of actual decency. More bruises and cuts marred her skin and her hands were still bound. But the worst part was her eyes. Once so bright and full of life, they were now dull and foggy. 

How had this come to happen? Lisa hadn't done anything to deserve this. She was a good woman and a wonderful mother. She'd come from a good family, and never once had she acted as though she was better than anyone else. Dean had done his best to give her all she wanted and needed. He'd loved this woman and vowed to protect her and give her the best possible life he could. And he had failed her. A tear slipped down his face silently as it all sank in. Oh god, Ben...

Dean shook his head. He couldn't do this now. He was beginning to process things slowly, though it was still like moving through molasses. He looked up when he became aware of shouting of some sort of scuffle taking place on the hill. Castiel was trotting Ruffian back towards them, trailing a rope around the outlaw's arms and effectively dragging him behind. The outlaw was kicking and making a fuss, trying to get loose. Benny and Bobby were immediately on him, wrestling him until they him firmly bound him. He thrashed and cussed, but it was in vain. He would not be getting away.

Castiel sat on Ruffin, who was shuffling her feet and playing with the bit in her mouth. He was calm, as though he hadn't just run down and roped a man. He and Dean made eye contact, and they each just looked at each other. Castiel's eyes softened and it was as though he could read the pain weighing on Dean. Dean couldn't take the sadness and sympathy (and something he couldn't quite put his finger on) he saw in Castiel's eyes. He looked back down at Lisa and reached down to close her eyes.

Sam watched his brother as he tried to cover Lisa better with the tattered nightgown. He came forward and tentatively put a hand on Dean's shoulder. When his brother didn't respond, he looked around him, just absorbing the events of the last several minutes. Rufus and Bobby were talking amongst themselves while Benny was standing watch over their captive and occasionally casting worried glances in Dean's direction. Crowley was gathering his horse back up and dusting himself off. Sighing, he exchanged a look with Castiel, who was watching Dean's attempts to help his wife. Sam pulled out his knife, went around to where he could reach Lisa's bound hands, and cut the ropes. Her arms limply came loose, and Sam gingerly moved them into a more natural position. Her physical state aside, she looked as though she could be sleeping.

Dean clenched his fists and jaw. His eyes tightened and he stalked over to the outlaw, who had quieted by now. He grabbed the young man's shirt front and hauled him up, holding him until the were almost nose to nose.

"Where are the rest of them going?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.

"I ain't telling you where we're going. I'm better than a sniveling snitch," the man sneered. Dean's eyes went flat, and he scowled. Dean flung the outlaw forward, who scrambled in a feeble attempt to stay on his feet, but ended up falling face first into the dirt.

"Understand this," Dean growled. "You WILL tell me where they're going, and you will NOT by joining them." The outlaw only laughed sarcastically.

"Yeah, right. I'm not scared of you. Fucking rancher who thinks he walks on water. That bitch was probably glad to be rid of you and that brat of yours. You should have seen her, she took it all like a real-" He was cut off when Dean hit him hard in the jaw. Dean was back on him in a second, punching and kicking anywhere he could. The dull, wet sound of each blow bounced off the surrounding trees. It was brutal, and the others were instantly trying to get a-hold of him. 

"Dean, stop it! We can't get information out of him if he's dead!" Sam yelled. But Dean was on a rampage, holding nothing back. The man on the ground was bloody and groaning in pain. Dean was pulling back his right arm for another hit when a pair of hands grabbed his arm, pulled him up and spun him away from the outlaw. However, instead of hitting his target like he had intended, Dean's fist flung forward and hit Castiel across the face. Castiel let out a grunt of pain as he was knocked sideways and to his knees by the force of the blow. It took a few seconds for what he did to sink in as he pulled up short, freezing and watching Castiel with wide eyes. Castiel tenderly touched his lip that was now bleeding.

"Shit, Cas, sorry," Dean rushed out, moving forward to try and help him to his feet. Castiel stood straighter, still wiping at the blood on his face.

"It's fine," he mumbled, walking off to where Ruffian stood. He gathered her reins, mounted her, and walked her off a ways until they were out of sight behind some big boulders.

"Where is he going?" Dean asked, short of breath and turning to Crowley, who was watching the scene nonchalantly. 

"Probably somewhere to cool down so he doesn't shoot you in the foot for decking him," he said with a chuckle. But his amusement faded and he turned serious, nodding in the direction of the young man still on the ground.

"Look, why don't I take care of the little prat? I'll get your information, you take care of your Dearly Departed. I'll even make it sorely unpleasant for him." Dean thought for a second before turning to walk back to Lisa's body.

"Fine."

"Excellent," Crowley said, eyebrows raised and lips pursed. "I'll get straight to it, then." He began to turn.

"Crowley." Crowley turned back, eyebrows still raised. Dean looked back over his shoulder, his eyes flat with anger. "Make it good." Crowley smiled wickedly.

"With pleasure," he said, his voice jovial.

***

The rest of their afternoon had been filled with the screams from their newfound guest. Turns out, Crowley was very good at getting information, as well as working with a knife. Crowley had moved said man to be tied to a tree where he proceeded to flay pieces of his skin. As it were, the young man, James, really wasn't as stoic as he thought.

Throughout all this, Crowley had managed to find out the band of outlaws was indeed headed South, hoping to meet up with a bigger group. They were going to sell the horses for a heady profit. 

"Ah," said Crowley when he had learned of this. But there was something more to this. "Tell me this: if you simply saw an opportunity to make a profit, why take the wife?"

"We needed a good fuck," James said, breathing hard and smirking. "You should have-" Crowley rolled his eyes.

"You can spare me the details. It won't make any difference, she meant nothing to me," he said, cutting the man off. "My only interest is in information." James grimaced. There went the ace in his pocket.

"There's more to it than just that, something you don't want to share. No one just kidnaps for the hell of it off the cuff on top of trying to make a quick buck off stolen horses. So, I'll ask again. Why did you take the wife?"

"Piss off, you old Dandy," came the response. Crowley sighed. He stepped forward, held James' left hand still, and cut off two of his fingers. James screamed in agony while Crowley only watched with raised eyebrows.

"You're not a very good judge of circumstance, are you?" he said, sounding almost bored. It continued in this fashion for at least another forty-five minutes. By the time they were finished, the man was a bloody mess and Crowley had his information.

The man with the yellow eyes was one named Azazel Malum, and upon hearing the name to put to the face, Dean knew where he recognized him from. Even Sam remembered the man from when he had been just a simple ranch hand hired by their father a few months before Dean had left to make his way. Some time later, there had been some sort of dispute between their father and Azazel, one for which their father had promptly fired him. Was this whole endeavor a vendetta for that one dispute? The thought made Dean and Sam's stomachs turn. But despite whatever the cause, it didn't change that this was really happening.

After much talk, it was decided that Bobby and Rufus were to escort Lisa's body back by train to the ranch where she would be buried next to John and Mary as a proper Winchester. After that, they were to meet in a town further South closer to where Dean estimated they would at least be close to in the next several days. Bobby and Rufus headed back to the little town they'd come across earlier that day immediately, Dean's blanket wrapped around Lisa's body as a sentimental shroud. While Dean would have preferred to take her himself, he needed to get his horses back and end Lisa's killers. It was no longer just a crime; it was personal. 

As they bed down for the night, things were moderately quiet. James remained bleeding and tied to his tree, grumbling occasionally about the conditions he found himself in. There had been no sightings of Castiel all evening, even through dinner and now as they were settling in. Dean felt bad about what had happened, and planned to make his apologies when he made his appearance. While Crowley seemed wholly unaffected by the day's events, Sam and Benny were very supportive through the night. They gave him space when he needed it, and each a constant presence in case they were needed. That was the first night in a long time that Dean went to bed as a single man once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some more fun facts for you:
> 
> -Azazel's last name in this fic, Malum, is Latin for "evil" (cliche? a bit, but hey, let me have my fun)  
> -Ruffian, Castiel's horse, is based on an actual horse  
> -Soundtrack #1 for this fanfic? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZaiGHAnMb5s  
> -I met someone who was born 3 years after Wyatt Earp died this week (a fact he seemed pretty proud of and he volunteered himself within minutes of our introduciton) He was very nice and we talked about how short life really is :) It was cool.  
> -Sunglow Ranch is based on an actual ranch. However, the real one is a guest ranch located in Southern Arizona. However, the town of Lawrence, CO is made up.
> 
> If I think of more, I'll probably add it later. I will, of course, continue to work on this and hopefully get it out as quick as I got this one. Please feel free to leave comments, thoughts, and questions. See ya'll in the next chapter!


	8. Chapter 8: Tough Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Thank you so much for your patience in the uploads of the new chapters of both this fanfic and the Superwholock one (if you have checked that one out as well). As you all well know, life waits for no author. Anyway, I meant to have this chapter out when the new "Tombstone" episode aired, but unfortunately I was, obviously, unable to make that deadline. But think of it this way: this just extends the Brokebacknatural fun XD
> 
> Anywho! You know the drill. This story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy :)

Chapter 8: Tough Justice

Dean woke from a restless sleep, and at first he had a hard time placing just what exactly was off about it. He sat up and yawned, rubbing his face in an attempt to wake himself up more. To his surprise, when he was awake enough to remember correctly, he realized that his makeshift blanket (his slicker since he'd made the impulse decision to wrap Lisa's body in his actual blanket) had somehow multiplied in the night. Instead of just the slicker, there was also a very familiar looking tan duster staring up at him that definitely wasn't there when he'd gone to bed. Dean raised his eyebrows and just sort of looked around for a few seconds.

He knew it was Castiel's duster, and that at some point in the night, he must have slipped into the campsite and covered him with it. The obvious question that came to mind was "why?" but the more he thought about it, the more he came to realize what this was. This was a gesture of forgiveness. The realization was oddly comforting in a sense. He shook his head and set about his routines.

Basically, he was doing his best to think of anything BUT the previous day's events. However, it would seem that his mind had other plans. Much like in the night, he kept replaying those events over and over. Each thought got shoved aside just as soon as it appeared. Gripping the duster, Dean went in search of Castiel.

Cas wasn't in the area they'd chosen to hobble their horses, and to Dean's knowledge, apart from covering him with his coat, Cas hadn't come into camp yet. So that left him with the option to go in search of Castiel's separate encampment or wait until Cas appeared when they were ready to move on. The latter sounded better, as Dean was still tired and just wanted to get on the road. When Castiel finally joined them, leading his mare while the others were finishing up saddling their horses, Dean grabbed the duster once again and strode over.

Dean and Castiel locked eyes for a drawn out moment and Dean held the coat out for Castiel to take. Neither one said a word, instead both exchanging a nod; Dean's in thanks, and Castiel's in understanding. Castiel took his duster, slipped it on while Dean's gaze lingered a second longer then turned back to his own horse. The others just kind of watched, a bit confused at the scene they'd just witnessed, but brushed it off all the same. All, that is, except Crowley, who caught Castiel's eye. The others didn't see Crowley quirk an eyebrow and Castiel shoot him a death glare. Chuckling to himself, Crowley shook his head slightly then continued about his business. 

They all set off at a steady pace, with James bound and bloody being pulled behind them on foot. He would be dropped off in the next town that they came upon, which Crowley guessed they'd reach by mid afternoon. All in all, about mid-morning, James was complaining worse than Crowley.

"God, my feet are KILLING me! Couldn't you jackasses at least slow down? Bunch of filthy, shit eating-"

"For fuck's sake," Crowley snapped, finally at the end of his rope. "Shut up before I castrate you and make you eat your own family jewels for your next meal!"

"Oh cram it, you old bastard. You ain't the one being dragged along with nothing to look at apart from five horse's asses and their four legged friends."

"Believe me, these asses are the best things you'll be seeing for a long while, so you might as well enjoy," Benny piped in.

"Just wait until I get loose and make my way to Gleeson. When the Devil hears about what you've done to one of his own, he's gonna gut you and make you watch as dogs eat you while you're still alive!" That brought everyone up short. Sam turned towards the outlaw.

"What do you mean 'the Devil'?" James sneered at Sam. With a particularly hard jerk to the line connecting James to Benny's horse, James grunted in pain.

"Answer him." James sighed and rolled his eyes.

"That's who they're meeting up with and apparently where he's at." All eyes looked to Castiel. Crowley gave a grunt of acknowledgement, obviously already knowing what Castiel was talking about. "His name is Nick, but the general public know him as The Devil. He's an outlaw, the leader of a big gang known for their raids of towns, trains, banks, and more. He's murderous and relentless."

"And he's going to tear you all apart piece by piece," James chuckled darkly.

"Don't inflate your own self-worth, darling, it makes it look like your over compensating for other things," Crowley said, which actually drew a short laugh out of both Sam and Benny.

"You bunch of Odd Sticks are on the shoot when this is all said and done. The Devil's gonna do you like we did to that pretty little whore. Use you up and when you got nothing left, beat you senseless until you're just begging for death, then use you up some more. Let me tell you, with that whore it was messy but she sure got the job done. And god, was she flexible! The positions we got her in- ugh!" Another hard jerk from Benny silenced James as he stumbled forward, landing hard on his knees. Dean spurred Baby up into a lope, going ahead a distance in an attempt to get away from James and keep his temper under control. Castiel watched after him with soft eyes while the others exchanged concerned looks.

Another thirty minutes and they had stopped for lunch. They made a little picnic area, but instead of settling down to dinner with the others, Castiel took James' lead and mounted his horse again. When asked, Castiel said he was taking him somewhere to keep him away from the group while they ate to prevent spoiled appetites. This was dismissed and they went about their business. However, when two gunshots rang out a few minutes later, they all dropped what they were doing, grabbed their guns, and ran in the direction of the shots.

Upon reaching Castiel, they saw him standing over a body, now the former James, looking down on him with cold eyes. Castiel looked up at his little audience and holstered his gun.

"What happened?" demanded Dean. He had hated James, obviously, but he had been looking forward to perhaps seeing him hang. Looks like he wouldn't get the satisfaction.

"He got loose from me and made a run for it. He pulled me off my horse and I had no choice but to shoot him before he got away," Castiel explained. Dean and Castiel stared each other down for several moments, the others watching tensely. Castiel met Dean's scrutinizing glare with a challenging squint of his own, only relenting when Sam cleared his throat.

"Fine. Come on, let's get a move on." Dean turned to leave, Castiel following with the rest.

"What about the body?" Sam asked, ever the soft heart. Dean turned a hard look on him.

"Leave it," he growled. And then he continued on. Sam stayed rooted to the spot for a moment; for the first time, he was seeing the hardened gunslinger and it frightened him just how unlike his brother he actually was. He followed after, keeping a concerned eye on his brother.

When they'd finished their dinner, and were back on the road, Dean let the others take the lead, lagging back a bit until he was even with Castiel at the rear of the party. Castiel merely spared him a glance but that was all, acting as though he wasn't even there. They rode together in silence until Dean drew in a breath.

"You and I both know that that dick didn't actually get the drop on you. So, what really happened?"

"I already told you-"

"Yeah, and from what I've seen of you so far is that you wouldn't let your guard down like that, especially alone with some half-wit like James. So, try again. What happened?" Castiel sighed and gave Dean a side-long glance.

"I couldn't stand him talking the way he was. Coupling that with how little regard he showed for his actions, the end he got was kind compared to what I could have done." He looked forward again. Dean looked him over, taking in how tense he was.

"It really bothered you, didn't it." It wasn't a question, rather an observation.

"Yes."

"That's pretty empathetic of you, Cas."

"That's one word for it. Self-serving would be another." Dean shot him a look.

"What do you mean?" Castiel didn't answer for several seconds and Dean thought he wasn't going to respond at all until Castiel sighed, closing his eyes.

"I know, as well as any, Dean, that the world is a very unforgiving place. There are people that the world will come up against that have no one to stand for them. And the second we turn a blind eye to this and let it continue, it will never change." Dean's eyebrows furrowed.

"What do you-"

"I didn't exactly have a stable childhood, Dean." Castiel sighed again, as though the topic was heavy on his chest. "When my father first met my mother, he was a young travelling Pastor. While on his way between towns, he happened upon my mother, a beautiful Native American woman. Despite social bias, they fell in love. Neither one gave much thought to the consequences of their actions. Not until, that is, my mother's tribe turned on her and my father was shunned by most people they came in contact with. 

"It was sheer luck that my father had kept my mother safe enough until she gave birth to me. But sadly, in the end, my mother was killed and my father was forced to take me and flee into the mountains. There he taught me how to survive and what little he had learned from my mother, in hopes that she and who she was would not be forgotten. Growing up was harder than you could imagine, and even now, the world frowns upon my very existence. As well as other 'half-breeds' like me. But still, I will stand for those who can not stand on their own, because it is the one thing that I CAN do." There was a determined set to Castiel's jaw and they continued to ride in silence a few paces. But there was a question that was niggling at Dean's mind.

"So, if you don't mind my asking, where's your father now?"

"He died of consumption when I was twelve. I've been on my own ever since." That explained a lot, actually.

"I'm sorry," was all that he could think to say. Castiel shook his head.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Dean, especially in light of recent events. It was a long time ago, and I have learned to look after myself."

"Still, that can't be very-"

"Dean." Dean turned to look at him. "I do not want, nor require, your pity. So please do not give it." Dean ducked his head as embarassment, a feeling he had not felt in a very long time, crept through him.

"Sorry," he said again, clearing his throat. Castiel did not answer this time, but a small smile played at his lips.

"So, do you have any idea where this 'Gleeson' is that we are supposed to be travelling to?"

"I do," Castiel said. "It is a small town in the Arizona territories. Actually, it's very close to the infamous town of Tombstone. I'm sure you know of that one."

"Isn't that where the Earp brothers and Doc got in that shootout with the McLaurys and that Clanton guy?" Castiel mumbled the affirmative. 

"Well then. Arizona must be one hell of a place."

"Guess we'll find out one way or another." The rest of the ride was a fairly easy one, and without the added nuisance of towing James along behind them at a snail's pace, they began to make good time once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you go! I'll be honest, the start of this chapter was a little hard, but of course, once I got going it just began to flow. Gotta love writer's block!
> 
> Some fun facts:
> 
> -Gleeson actually existed, though now it is, ironically and perfectly, a Ghost Town. When I figure out how to post the pictures I have, I will. Also, if you ever get the chance to visit it, you should. Like Castiel said, it is just a short distance out of Tombstone which is also so saturated in history, you can feel yourself getting lost to time. It truly is a Town Too Tough to Die.  
> -The choice I made for our boys to actually end up in Gleeson was made months before the thirteenth season even started.  
> -James uses the terms "Odd Sticks" and "on the shoot", which are old west slang for "eccentric persons" and "looking for trouble"
> 
> Like I said, once I figure out how to add those pictures, I'll add them. It really is super cool, and there's even something a little on the creepy side in them ;) Anyway, until next time friends.


	9. Chapter Nine: Standing Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, here I have for you the next chapter. Now, just a couple things about this chapter: it is a bit shorter than the others. But the way this one flowed just felt right to end it where I did. Also, I am going to be working on the next chapter this weekend to kind of make up for such a long wait for a chapter as short as this one. (Sorry for that, btw. Got sick, go figure) Anyway:
> 
> This story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy :)

Chapter 9: Standing Together

The next few days seemed to pass easily and relatively uneventful. They continued to follow the trail as best as they could and when they came to the next town, they restocked their supplies. Benny and Dean obtained more ammo and another blanket to replace his other, Sam questioned around the town for any information the towns people could offer, and Crowley hit up the local saloon in hopes of sampling their finest whiskey and padding his pockets. Castiel, however, opted to not go into any of the shops, and instead stayed with the horses.

Now that he knew a little more about Castiel's past, a lot of his behaviors suddenly made more sense than they had before. Dean couldn't help but notice the sideways, dirty looks Castiel would receive every once in a while. He had known about the predjudices some people harbored toward other ethnicities, but he himself couldn't understand it. People were people and just because they were the same as others wasn't a just cause in his mind to treat them with any less respect. There were some times when people really just irritated the shit out of Dean. 

When he saw those dirty looks and how they made Castiel bow his head, look down, and just pretend that the others didn't exist just made his blood boil, and the intensity of that reaction somewhat confused Dean. It made Dean want to deck anyone who looked down their nose at Castiel. And that didn't change when Dean came out of the General Store only to find a small group of young men huddled together and snickering as they watched Castiel as he fiddled with the cinch on his horse.

"Hey mister, you get paid to look after them horses, or are you just unable to get it up for a real woman?" One of them sneered.

"'Naw, Lenny, he can get it up. It's just no woman would wet a pecker like his. Isn't that right?" When Castiel did not react to them, one of the boys used his boot (expensive and hardly used, obviously designed for fashionable families of money) to scuff dirt at Castiel. The dirt cloud hit and settled against the back of Castiel's calves, but still he ignored them. Dean observed from the wooden walkway. He was strangely a little proud of Castiel's resilience.

However, that same resilience was pushed when the same young man, perturbed at being ignored, suddenly crowded Castiel. Dean tensed, watching closely but holding back from interfering. Castiel was a big boy, he could hold his own. He wasn't some wilting flower, and he'd proven that much since they'd met. And it didn't change now, though Dean was ready in case he needed some help. Castiel and the boy were now practically nose to nose, their gazes scathing and challenging.

"Maybe you didn't hear me, Half-breed." Castiel stared back at the man, a squinty glare etched onto his face. But still he did not answer. The boy tried again. "I saw those buckskin shoes you was moving around in that pack of yours. And my Pa's told me all about your kind. Told me how the only thing those little squaws were good for was a quick poke and target practice." At this he started thumbing at a firearm on his hip. "If we weren't surrounded by a bunch of decent folks right now, I'd finish you here and now. Ain't no one gonna miss a good-for-nothing nobody like you." Dean took a step forward, preparing to intervene. Death threats was where he drew the line when it came to not intervening. But Castiel beat him to the punch.

"You know, it's funny. For as much as you boast about knowing so much about me, you somehow failed to notice the little badge I've got on. Now, I'm sure father would be proud of you for talking down at people, but I'm not sure he'd appreciate you being arrested for something so stupid as making death threats at a Sheriff's Deputy." The young man went pale as he looked down at the badge he'd failed to see on Castiel's breast. His face twisted into an ugly look as he grabbed either side of Castiel's jacket in tight fists and hauling him forward until their faces were inches from each other. Castiel glared back unflinching as the young man spat in his face.

"You son of a whore! I ought to take you to the outskirts of town and burn you alive, you good for nothing-" he froze when he heard the click of the hammer being pulled on a gun. Slowly, he and Castiel turned to see Dean with the barrel of his gun lined with the young man's temple. His friends, who had up to this point been laughing at the whole scene, ceased with quiet gasps and stood in shock.

"You listen to me, and you listen good, 'cause I won't say this again. You and your sorry ass excuse for friends get the hell away from him, and don't ever let me hear you talking to anyone or about anyone that way again, or else I'll come back here and show you the ugly end of the law. Do you understand me?" Dean said, his eyes hard and his voice low and dangerous. The boys looked between Dean, his gun, and their friend, eyes wide. Slowly, the boy let go of Castiel and kept his hands raised as he backed away. 

Dean kept his hard gaze locked on the boy. Why should he get a free pass and get off with just a warning? Had he not just threatened a life with little to no regard for his actions? He stood there, glaring at this idiot and not noticing he hadn't lowered his gun at all. The minutes dragged on as he debated what to do with this dumbass, his concentration only broken when Castiel spoke.

"Dean. Drop the gun." Dean blinked, but lowered his gun just slightly but still had it raised. He looked to Castiel, who was watching him intensely with concerned eyes. 

"Drop the gun," he said again, and in that phrase, Dean could hear the understanding and kindness that was Cas. Dean dropped the gun, uncocked it, and put it back in his holster.

"Get out of here, you little shit," he said, nodding with his head in a gesture telling them all to get lost. The group of boys didn't waste any time, running off to get as far from Dean as they could. Dean looked down and went to collect Baby from the hitching post, not looking around him at the people who had seen the small occurence and were now murmuring quietly amongst themselves. He especially didn't pay attention to Castiel now standing on the other side of Baby's neck and watching him closely.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. Dean didn't look at him when he responded.

"'M fine, Cas. Come on, let's get back on the road." With that, he began to lead Baby towards where he knew the direction that he knew where the others were, but a thought brought him up short. He turned a little back towards Cas and, without really looking at him, asked him a simple question.

"What about you? You okay?" Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Castiel look back up at him from where he'd looked down and he could hear Cas' slight smile in his voice as he answered.

"I'm fine, Dean. Thank you." Dean nodded at that and continued on down the road to go get the others, not seeing that Castiel was watching after him with somber eyes as he followed behind. They gathered the others together, and without another word on the occurence, they all were on their way again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter kind of took an unexpected course, but not an altogether unpleasant one. At least in my opinion anyway. I felt it gave a moment for our guys to bond for a moment, and gave a moment of calm in the storm. I'm sorry if it wasn't as good as the others, but I promise more and better is to come. Until then, catch you guys in the next chapter!


	10. Before the Storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so this took a little longer to get out than I was hoping, but here it is! Sorry about that guys. So, of course you know that this story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy :)

Chapter 10: Calm Before the Storm

They had been on the road now for almost over a week and they were getting closer to the Arizona territories with each day. And with each passing day, the anticipation between the band of heroes was growing. It occurred to Dean that Sam seemed quieter at times, as though he was drawn into his thoughts, contemplating whatever there was to contemplate in that gargantuan head of his. Sam also kept asking questions, trying to come up with plans for when they got to Gleeson. Benny conversed with him freely, sharing thoughts and opinions along with the occasional anecdote about outlaws he and Dean had taken down back when they rode together. Sam ate these stories up, excited about learning more about his brother. He tried to get Dean to join in the conversations, but Dean's heart wasn't in it.

It was like the closer they got, the more wound up he seemed to become. He kept mostly to himself, lost in his own thoughts. He was angry and hurt, and wanted this all to just be over. He just wanted to return home with his horses and try to get a semblance of his life back. But things were going to be different now. His wife was dead, and all he'd have to show for this excursion, if everything went his way, was his horses.

Drawn out of his thoughts when he heard Crowley laughing, he looked up in time to see him and Cas talking. Or rather, Crowley was chuckling to himself while Cas smiled gently at whatever Crowley had said. Watching him, Dean found that he had a light feeling lifting the edges of the weighted sorrow he'd felt constantly since Lisa's death. He wasn't really sure what that feeling was yet, nor why he felt it at that moment, but he welcomed it as long as he didn't have to focus on it too hard. 

Dean turned his attention to his surroundings, taking it all in. The woods that had thinned out into plains, and now they were slowly turning into sand and rock. They had seen many incredible sights so far, not that they had actually stopped to appreciate them. Maybe someday Dean would do that. Maybe.

***

Finally, they'd arrived in the Territories and were very close to Gleeson, according to some of the locals. They'd been on the road a long time this day, coming at Gleeson from the East, when they'd come up on an encampment of Calvary soldiers hoping to stop and water their horses. The soldiers welcomed them, allowing them to rest, which their horses seemed glad for. Sam and Benny conversed well enough with the men, but Cas and Crowley were quiet and kept mostly to themselves. Dean got on with them for the most part, but in all honesty he was mostly cold and all business.

He talked with the man in charge, a Colonel by the name of Cain, and found out that a group of men with horses had passed through the area but hadn't stopped and that Gleeson was just off to the East by a few miles. He thanked Cain, then went to find his men. Crowley was standing with Cas nearby the horses, neither seeming to want to stray too far. He walked toward them to let them know the news and try to formulate some sort of plan of attack. 

But as he approached, he couldn't help noticing how one of soldiers kept glancing in their direction; more specifically, Cas' direction. It was very subtle, but just enough to catch Dean's trained eye. Dean made a mental note to keep an eye on him, but chalked it up to the man being suspicious of Cas' stoic and quiet nature combined with how he and Crowley kept to themselves. He himself had been suspicious of that very same thing when he'd first met Cas; though he still felt from time to time that there was something that he was hiding. 

"Hey," he said when in earshot. "So our guys are just a few miles to the East, and the soldiers saw a group of guys with horses pass by a day or so ago. I'm gonna go get Sam and Benny, and then we are gonna talk about what to do next." Crowley and Cas nodded, and Dean moved on, finding Sam and Benny laughing with some of the guys with tins of coffee. He caught their attention, and soon they were all together around their horses.

"Okay. Here's what we're gonna do. We're going to head in that direction and when we get close enough, we're each going to go in one at a time. We'll have to keep our heads down since they'll probably be looking for us. We'll narrow down the area that they're in, and then once we get them surrounded, let me do the talking. I'll call them out and see if I can draw them out into the street. Be on the lookout for the man with the yellow eyes. He'll be the main target, and once we get visual, that's when we make our move." He looked to each of them but paused when he saw Castiel's furrowed brow. "What?"

"We don't know where they are exactly, or just how many we're up against. It may be wise to scout them out before we make any sort of move. Not to mention we are still waiting on Bobby and Rufus since you'd wired them back in that town a ways back."

"And how do you propose we do that? The more time we waste, the more likely they are to get away with their crime."

"They won't recognize me. I'll go in, subtly get an idea of what exactly we're dealing with and where would be the best areas to position ourselves. If we're lucky, Bobby and Rufus will have arrived and we won't be going into an unknowable situation half-cocked." Dean considered this a moment, recognizing that this was actually a very good idea. They would have no way of knowing who Castiel since the only outlaw to have seen Cas traveling with them was now dead and they would not be expecting him.

"Alright. We'll do it. We'll ride on and stop about a mile or two outside of town if we can find a spot out of the way enough to avoid suspicion. Castiel will ride in and get a good look at what we're dealing with, and when he comes back we'll plan accordingly." The others agreed, and they all moved to gather their horses together. However, it seemed Sam had another thought to add, given how he hovered in Dean's vicinity. Dean didn't bother looking at him, merely adjusting his saddle.

"Something on your mind, Sam?"

"Yeah, actually. Something that bandit said before he ran has been bugging me." When Dean didn't look up at him, he continued. "I think I recognize the name he gave out." Finally Dean turned to him.

"What, James?"

"No, the other one. Right before he, er, let Lisa go." Dean's jaw clenched. He turned back to his horse.

"Azazel."

"Yeah, that one."

"You know, it's actually weird you say that. Back before all this happened, I couldn't help but feel like I'd seen him before, but I couldn't place him."

"I got to thinking about it and I think I know who he is. Do you remember when we were kids and Dad had hired on a whole bunch of new ranch hands when a few of the others wanted to move on to other things?" Dean nodded. "Well I don't know if you remember him or not, but there was one guy who kind of got on Dad's nerves from time to time. And at one point, he and Dad actually got in such a bad fight that Dad fired him and told him to go right on the spot."

"Oh yeah, I remember that guy. He was always a little shifty, like there was always some sort of double meaning to everything he said. I always thought he had a thing for Mom."

"Exactly. And his name was Azazel." Dean stopped and turned back to Sam. 

"Son of a bitch. No wonder I recognized him."

"Yeah. He must still be bitter about being sacked or something."

"For fuck's sake, guy needs a hobby or something. Though he may not live long enough to take one up, by the time that I'm done with him." Sam nodded and they didn't say anymore on the matter. Dean was glad to have that part of things settled at least. It had bothered him that the man had looked so familiar but he'd been unable to place him. But now that he knew who this guy was, he knew for sure that, no matter how stupid the reason, this was all still personal and not just some random opportunistic crime. Dean shook his head, clearing his thoughts before they headed out.

As it turned out, they were very close to the town already. It only took about an hour before they'd reached a spot a safe distance from the town to avoid suspicion and to wait until Castiel returned. Castiel dug out a pair of rawhide shoes from his pack fastened them under his blanket behind his saddle before he headed out. Dean wasn't entirely sure why he thought those necessary, but far be it for him to question the methods of someone who had already proven himself to be more than capable of handling a tough situation. With a nod to each of them, and a subtle lingering look at Dean that Dean thought he might have imagined, Castiel headed into the town. There was nothing left to do now but to wait patiently.

***

Castiel took a deep settling breath as he approached the outskirts of the mining town tucked into the small hills of the surrounding area. He wasn't nervous, as he had done this many times before, but the deep breath was enough to gather control of himself as he prepared himself to act as though he were not here to survey union of cutthroat thieves. This was his job, and he was good at it.

He had never been to this town before, though he had been to it's more infamous neighbor, Tombstone. This town was considerably more docile, which meant that people in the area were less likely to get involved in whatever would go down once the guns were drawn. It actually surprised Castiel that the bandits hadn't moved on to Tombstone instead. Perhaps there was simply too much attention to the town of Tombstone for a gang of such notoriety as Lucifer's. Whatever the reason, Castiel didn't really care. These were the nuisance that plagued good people and it would come to an end.

As he rode into the town, he only got some curious looks before people went on about their business. He found a hitching post that wasn't occupied, and tied Ruffian to it, and pulled rawhide shoes from behind his saddle and tucked them into a pocket inside his slicker. He would be needing those. He intended to attempt to get more than just a visual of their enemy. It'd be tricky, but Castiel could do it. For Dean.

As casually as he could manage, he walked to the town livery stable, thinking that would be a good place to start and confirm that the bandits were indeed here. As he approached, he saw a great herd of horses in the corral, almost too many for the wooden barrier. There was his confirmation, now he needed to find the culprits.

"Can I help you?" Came a voice off to his left. He turned to see an older man in dirty old clothes looking at him, a glint of suspicion to his eye. Castiel pointed at the horses.

"I was just admiring those horses. I've been looking to start a good herd myself, and thought maybe I could see if a few of those were for sale." The man squinted at him a moment longer, then turned to the horses as well.

"They belong to some stranger that come into town couple days ago. Far as I know, he was plannin' on takin' 'em 'cross the border down into Mexico, but he may be open to sellin' a few of 'em."

"Any chance you know where this man is, so that I may ask?" The old man nodded down the street.

"Saloon down the way there. Him and his boys seem to have taken a bit of a fancy to the liquor and women we got here." Castiel caught himself before he grimaced at the thought.

"Thank you." With that, he headed off down the street to the saloon. Said building was dark and musty. It only had a few patrons for the time of day, but as Castiel sat on a stool at the bar, he could hear at least a couple of the rooms upstairs being occupied in payed company. If he wasn't trying to keep a low profile, Castiel might have grimaced.

"What can I do ya for?" asked the barkeep, not bothering to look up at him.

"Anything you've got is fine," Castiel replied, paying the same amount of attention as he himself was receiving. The barkeep pulled up a shot glass and filled it with a brownish-gold liquid before setting it in front of Castiel.

"Per chance, did you happen to see the man who owns all those horses out there in the livery lately? I'm interested in buying a few." His only answer was the man jerking his thumb up towards one of the rooms upstairs. "I see." He said no more on the matter. Minutes later, a dishevled young blonde man came down the stairs with a giggling Soiled Dove on his arm. She batted her eyelashes at him and he kept a hand on her behind like he had a right to it.

"You come back here and visit me again, Bradey. Don't you become a stranger," she said with a smile that was intended to keep her clientele coming back. Bradey, apparently, gave her rump a firm squeeze.

"I could never resist your company, gorgeous," he said, then turned and left out the doors. Castiel knew that Bradey, and the man's description, were exactly as Dean had described and, after an appropriate amount of time had been spared to avoid suspicion, he left to trail the young man.

His trailing took him to a bench outside of a tobacco store where a man sat fanning himself with his hat. Castiel couldn't believe his eyes. He had seen pictures of him before, had studied them in the possibility that he might recognize him if they ever happened to cross paths, such as now. Bradey was stood right in front of Lucifer himself, talking. Castiel had to get closer.

He ducked down a side street and, when he was quite sure that he was alone and not being watched, slipped the rawhide shoes out of his pocket, changed, and hid his boots behind some crates in the ally. He would be back for them, but right now he needed stealth. The shoes provided enough padding to keep his steps hushed than if he had kept his boots on, and neither Lucifer or Bradey heard his approach on the side of the building. 

To not draw too much attention, he leaned against the side of the tobacco shop and pulled out the pipe that had once belonged to his father and packed it with tobacco he carried in his pockets. He struck a match and closed his eyes as if he were just enjoying a smoke, much like other customers of the shop were doing. And thus effectively allowing for the convenience of eavesdropping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it. A new chapter for a new year, and things are beginning to heat up, in more ways than one. I hope that you guys are enjoying this as much as I am writing it :)
> 
> Some Fun Facts:  
> -You can find some awesome pictures of Gleeson, AZ on Google Images (as I am still trying to figure out how to add my own personal pictures that I've taken but who knows how long that'll take) as well as a picture of the plaque and tree where 'Soldier's Hole' was located. Yes, the encampment was a real place too.  
> -The people who own the property are very nice people  
> -If you're interested in some awesome Western books, I highly recommend 'These Is My Words by Nancy E. Turner and any books written by William Johnstone. They have something in the for everyone and the one by Nancy has a great account of what life was like for a young woman growing up in the Arizona Territores back in those days.
> 
> Anyway, thanks guys!


	12. Chapter 11: Status Report

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello there! Got some more for you guys. There's going to be more action coming up, I promise. Anyway, Thank you for taking time to read this story, and I really hope you enjoy it. This fanfiction is nonprofit and is simply just an idea I had in passing that wouldn't leave me be. It is solely written for the enjoyment of the fans. I do not own any of the characters in this story, as they belong to their creator, Eric Kripke. No copyright infringement is intended by the writing and creation of this story.

Chapter 11: Status Report

"-those horses, Brady. Who's idea was it to steal them?" asked a honeyed voice. The words were said in a light enough tone, but Castiel knew not to take it at face value. Or tone value. Whatever. Brady's voice shook with nerves when he responded with fake confidence.

"Oh, that was Azazel. He saw an opportunity to make us - you- some extra cash, and he took it. We almost brought you a lady to have a little fun with too, but she had a little accident on the way here."

"A lady too, huh?" There was a brief pause, and then Brady cleared his throat.

"Uh, yeah, the wife of the man we stole the horses from. Azazel was pretty bent on taking as much as he could from the guy."

"Is that so." It wasn't a question. There was an awkward silence where neither man said anything. Castiel puffed on his pipe, listening to the wooden walk-way creak as Brady shifted his weight back and forth, the silence making him antsy.

"That will be all, Brady," the smooth voice said. There was the tiny, quiet sigh of relief.

"Yes sir, thank you." And Brady's heavy steps went off down the walk. Castiel stayed where he was, puffing away. He could hear when the man in charge would shift his weight in the chair, pulling himself up to stand. In slow, exaggerated steps, the man went off in the same direction. He began whistling a cheerful little tune as he went on his way.

Castiel stayed where he was, keeping his eyes downcast in case he, too, was being observed so he would be seen as nothing more than a local enjoying a smoke. A couple of minutes passed, and when he deemed it had been an appropriate amount of time, he dumped out the bit of charred tobacco in his pipe, wiped it down, put it away, and then turned to cross the street and go between two buildings. In the corner of his eye, he saw a man's figure still walking about where the object of his snooping would have ended up about this time. Casitel did not look directly in the direction, but once he was past the buildings on the opposite side of the street, he turned in the direction Brady's retreating steps had gone.

Like a hawk circling its prey, he kept the man's figure in the corner of his eye, observing where he went, how he behaved, and who he interacted with. This continued for the next hour, as Castiel just simply observed. He kept his distance, tried not to look directly in the man's direction, and kept his own actions like a man in town for the mere pleasure of being in town. 

In the time that he spent doing this, he found that this man, obviously the one in charge and thus making him "the Devil", was making his men lay low and sticking close to the Southern part of town close to the livery. This might of been been to keep his men close to the new horses they'd acquired, Dean's horses, but the more likely reason being to stick close to their own horses. This was smart on Nick's, or the Devil's, part, and he most likely was expecting something to cause them to have to be ready to go at a moment's notice without being too obvious about it. He suspected that the conversation he had overheard was confirmation for Nick that trouble may be following his men and their latest prize. A surprise attack on this man and his men would not be easy, if at all possible. Castiel had to hand it to Nick. He was no idiot.

***

Dean was perched on a rock, looking out in the direction where Gleeson lay. Castiel had been gone all afternoon and now evening was approaching and he still wasn't back. Dean was beginning to worry about Castiel, wondering if he had been found out or if something bad had happened to him. And a small part of him knew that it wasn't just because the plan would be ruined if something had indeed happened, which Dean tried not to focus too hard on.

"He'll be back anytime now, Dean. He'll be fine." He hadn't heard Sam approaching behind him. He looked at Sam briefly then looked back to his view, clearing his throat.

"What the hell is he doing that is taking so long? He was supposed to just go in, find out where they were, and then get out. This can't bode well for us."

"It'll be fine. Come have some supper and try to relax while you have the chance." Sam grabbed Dean's arm, gently pulling him along with him. They went back to the campfire and began to eat dinner. Dean didn't say much, but was the first to notice when the horses looked up and perked their ears to the sounds of an approaching horse and rider. They all stood prepared for anything, and were collectively relieved when they realized that it was Castiel on Ruffian.

"Fuck, Cas, took you long enough! What the hell kept you?" Dean growled out, tucking his pistol away. Castiel dismounted Ruffian and began tending to her as he spoke.

"I was doing the job. They're definitely holed up there, and there's definitely quite a few of them. From what I gathered, they're staying pretty close to the livery stables in case they need to make some sort of quick get away." Here, Castiel paused and finished his work with Ruffian before he walked over to sit with the others. He took the cup of hot water that Crowley offered as well as a couple of bicuits and some jerkey and began eating.

"Is Azazel there?"

"Yes, him, the gang, and the herd of horses are all there. I also managed to get an interesting bit of information. The crimes commited against you, Dean, were not ordered by Nick. They were, in fact, the responsibility of Azazel and Nick was unaware of what transpired until they arrived with your herd of horses."

"How the hell did you figure that out?" Benny asked, leaning forward.

"I overheard them. Nick was questioning Brady about the horses and who's idea they had been. Brady also suggested that Azazel was intent on inflicting as much damage to you as he could."

"Well that pretty much confirms what we had talked about," Sam said to Den. "This is definitely personal."

"But why? People don't just do these types of crimes over just anything. What the hell does he have against you that's bad enough to warrant all of this?" Benny asked looking between Dean and Sam. But Dean wasn't listening.

"You got that close?" Dean questioned, a look of disbelief and just a little bit of astonishment written on his features. That is, right before it shifted into a look of anger and something else that Castiel couldn't quite place. "You could have been found out, or something! And then where would we be?"

"I was getting information. That was the job, Dean. And I wasn't found out. I do know how to do my job, Dean. I've been doing this a long time."

"So what, you just waltzed on in there, sat in on one of their meetings, and then said 'Thanks for the information, have a nice day' and left?"

"People are surprisingly simple once you get right down to it. We are creatures of habit, we let our guard down when we're cocky or comfortable, and in a sea of unfamiliar faces we can't tell who is friend and who is foe. One needs only put on the mask they were expecting to see." Dean's brow was furrowed and his mouth was open slightly as he processed what Castiel was saying.

"What?" Castiel sighed, rolled his eyes, and looked Dean square in the eyes.

"I acted as though I were a local interested in buying some of the horses. I was pointed in Brady's direction, I trailed him to a smoke shop, and enjoyed a smoke on my pipe while they chatted right around the corner. Then I followed at a distance. This is hardly a new tactic, Dean. I thought you had bounty-hunted before." Dean glared at Castiel.

"They could have seen you eavesdropping."

"Perhaps, but there were other locals milling about and smoking. I was hardly the only one, and any number of those people could have overheard their conversation," Castiel said, turning back to his dinner. Benny and Crowley sat watching the exchange in an uncomfortable silence, while Sam tried to diffuse the situation.

"Guys, come on, there's no sense in worrying about what could have happened and what did happen. Let's just take the information we got and move forward from here." The other two ignored him.

"You should have just scouted the area and come back. You could have ruined this whole operation, Cas." Castiel shot a glare towards Dean, and it was the most malicious look he had seen on Castiel yet.

"I believe this is where I will bid you all a good night." Castiel threw the rest of his unfinished biscuit into the fire and stood, grabbing his pack of belongings. "Make your plans and then I will follow them. Goodnight." And with that, he went out into the night to make his separate camp. Dean watched him go, glaring at his retreating form. The silence from the others brought him out of his thoughts when he looked to see the others giving him a puzzled look. Though in Crowley's case he was trying not to show how he was amused. 

"What?" he spat, irritated.

"Is it really that big a deal? I mean, he did pretty good for us today," Sam reasoned.

"We're almost in the home stretch here, Sam. We can't afford to make reckless risks."

"I know, but still. He knows what he's doing, Dean. Give the guy a break." Dean looked away and frustration played across his features. He stood suddenly.

"I need some air." And with that, he walked off in the opposite direction than Castiel had gone.

***

Dean was a mix of emotions. The last week had taken a number of emotional turns, and he didn't want to admit it, but they were starting to wear at him. He didn't know why he had made such a big deal about what Cas had done. He'd actually been pretty impressed. Trailing someone who's expecting to be followed and still manage to get information and get out without tipping them off took a lot of skill. 

But it ate at him that Cas had gone rogue. Not that he wanted to be obeyed at his every whim and command, but with such a limited window of opportunity he didn't really want to take any chances. He'd lost too much already, and he didn't want to add his new friend to that list. He was the one responsible for how this turned out, and he took that responsibility very seriously. However, he had been a bit overbearing about the situation, if this was going to work out in their favor, they all needed to get along and be on the same page. Not to mention that Cas wasn't just an employee anymore. He was also a friend.

In the end, Dean made a big circle and found himself with the horses. Surprisingly, he found Cas there as well, brushing none other than Baby, who was munching grass happily like this was perfectly normal. This was good. Dean needed to apologize, he knew that much, and he made his way forward.

"Hey, Cas." Castiel didn't respond and kept the steady sweeping motion of the brush going. Dean scratched the back of his neck sighing.

"Look, I was a bit out of line earlier, and while risks aren't exactly a smart move at this point, you did good." Castiel stopped mid-sweep. Without looking up, he addressed Dean in a lower voice than his usual monotone.

"I would not have acted on impulse if I knew it would have ended badly for us. I understand your point, but do not insult my ability to do my job again. I'm good at what I do."

"I know. And I'm- I'm sorry." Dean watched as Cas slowly started brushing Baby again.

"All is forgiven." The swishing sound of the brush continued for three more strokes, and then Castiel sighed and turned to Dean.

"Get some sleep, Dean. Tomorrow we'll figure out what needs done, and we'll go from there." He stepped past Dean, but put his hand on his shoulder and gave a little squeeze before he continued on to his 

camp. Dean stepped up a scratched Baby's withers, bid her goodnight, then took Castiel's advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's all 'til next time, folks! I'm not too sure, but I apologize if this one is a little shorter. It was written all in one night, and I'll try to make the next one longer, promise. I don't really have any fun facts for the bottom of the chapter this time, but who knows! If I think of any, I may come back and put them in. But for now, thank you guys for reading and please feel free to leave comments, questions, kudos, anything (just please be nice, life is hard enough without ugliness among fellow fans) and I'll catch you all on the flip side! B) (insert David Della Rocco voice from Boondock Saints here)


	13. Chapter 12: Dance With the Devil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all, 'tis I returning with another installation. Now I do want to apologize a head of time for two reasons: I admittedly am not very good at action scenes, so I have no idea if this one came across the way I wanted and actually sounded probable, so I am sorry if this one is not very good. The second is for any offensive language or anything triggering in these scenes. It is an unfortunate truth that these sorts of opinions, events and points of views exist but that doesn't mean they can't be changed. I'm sorry if they are offensive or triggering, but for the record I do not hold with these points of views. With that all being said:
> 
> This story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy.

Chapter 12: Dance With the Devil

The day had finally come. They had risen that morning knowing that whatever the outcome, whether they killed the Devil's men and won the horses back or they breathed their last in trying, this was ending today. It had been a day since Castiel had returned with his information and they had their plan made.

They each would be entering the town one at a time at different times throughout the morning and from different directions. Castiel would take to the area nearest the livery as if he were still interested in buying the horses, since he had already shown his face and that was the story he'd given. He would be the first to enter town from the same place he'd entered before, keeping up the illusion that he owned land somewhere off in that direction. Sam would take to behind the hotel that stood just two buildings down from the livery, blocking out the back entrance and yet another escape route. Benny, who was handy at long distance shooting, would use the rife that he'd brought from the top of the general store across the street from the hotel. Crowley would take his post down at the smoke shop where Nick had been hanging out. It was a distance away, but it was better to cover that area as well, in case anyone tried to surround them in the process of surrounding.

Then there was Bobby and Rufus, who had returned the previous afternoon after a long train ride into Dragoon and half a day of quick riding. They would be taking up post in the saloon, where they'd "be the least suspicious for two grumpy ol' farts" as Benny had joked. They did not see the humor in this, though it got a chuckle from the rest. And then finally there was Dean. He would enter the town last, mid-afternoon after the others had had a chance to take up their spots, and he would come right down the main street. He would be the one to call out the Devil, then demand his horses back and Azazel for punishment. None of them were particularly thrilled with this part of the plan as it left Dean out in the open without protection. Crowley even called him a moron for it. But Dean didn't much care.

He was ready for this to be over. He wanted to look Azazel in the eye as he explained his actions. He wanted to see it dawn on him that there was no running, no escape. There was no convincing him to do it any other way, and their concerns fell on deaf ears. And that was how they found themselves that day, lining themselves up in their assigned positions.

The day was a peculiar one. The feel was off in a way that none of them could put a description to. The sky was bright and hazy, a dusty blue. There was something to it that was uncomfortable and even the locals could be overheard commenting on the weird feel to the day. However, by the time that Dean set foot in town, the atmosphere was quickly forgotten. 

The town's eyes tracked the lone man as he walked with intent toward the middle of the Southern end of town. His brown duster whipped behind him with each step he took, his hands loose and ready at his sides. His expression was grim and his eyes flat as he walked with determination. In the center of the Southern end of Gleeson, Arizona, Dean Winchester stood at the ready.

"Alright, you son of a bitch! This ends here and now! Come out now and surrender, or I'm coming in for you!" he shouted, knowing that at least a few of the figures milling around had to be a part of the Devil's gang. Townspeople stopped and stared in his direction, and then shuffled into any nearby doorway they could find, trying not to draw too much attention to themselves. They knew that whatever was about to happen was not something they wanted caught up in.

"You know, there ARE children here," a voice said in a subtly mocking tone. Dean whipped his head to look his right, seeing a man roughly his same height with light scruffy hair leaning with one shoulder against one of the pillars connected to the wooden walkway. "Think of the example you are setting." The man smirked at Dean, who gave no reaction in turn.

"'You who they call 'the Devil'?"

"Might have been accused of it a time or two. And you are?"

"My name is Dean Winchester. A group of your men came onto my property over a week ago and kidnapped my wife and stole a herd of my horses." Dean paused, half expecting the man to make some sort of remark, but the man maintained his quiet smirk. "I want my horses back and the man responsible."

"But not your wife?" Nick said in an attempt at innocence. Dean glared.

"Excuse me?"

"You demanded your horses back and the man behind the actions, but you didn't ask for your wife back. What, was she bad in the sheets or something?" Dean clenched his jaw.

"Don't fuck with me. You know she's already dead and what your men did to her. Now, give me what I want, and we'll leave you be."

"Not one to play along, are you? I expect that you've probably got the law on your side, is that right?" Dean rolled his eyes, pulling the left side of his duster to the side to reveal his badge and then put it back the way it was. Nick hummed then pushed off from the walkway and took a step towards Dean. Dean responded by pushing his duster out of the way of his gun and adjusting his stance. Nick stopped, though he seemed more amused than threatened.

"Someone wound you a little too tight, I'm thinking. You know, there's a nice bar just right over there, why don't you go check it out, sow some of them wild oats you gathered while tied down to your old nag. My boys boast those girls got a wild side a mile long. Just tell 'em Nick sent you."

"Pass. I'll take what I came here for and we'll leave it at that." Dean chose to ignore Nick's crude offer.

"Hmm." He took another step forward, and when he did, his eyes flickered off behind Dean and to the left. "I see, not interested in the girls 'cuz you've already got yourself a nice dark-haired piece over there in your corner." Dean didn't look. He knew what Nick was trying to do, and he also knew that it was Cas he was talking about. He must have taken a defensive stance as well. However, Dean refused to take the bait. There was a tense silence where the whole town seemed to hold it's breath. Nick smiled in his cocky way as Dean stared him down, dead-eyed and serious. Nick broke the silence first, making many just as he elevated his voice to give the command.

"Hold your fire!" But the shot was fired before Nick even finished his command. Suddenly the air was filled with several shots from all different directions. Dean focused only on getting out of the line of fire, running to the side and firing off two shots of his own, hearing pained shouts before he became aware that Nick, instead of attacking with his company, had stormed off to where the first shot had come from and had the man, who was bleeding from the leg and arm, by the lapels of his coat. As suddenly as the shots had started, they stopped, watching the scene unfold.

"When I give you a fucking order, you fucking follow it!" Nick shouted in, ironically, Brady's face and then reached across his body, pulled out a bowie knife, and sliced it across Brady's throat in one easy swipe. Blood poured from the young man's neck as he fell gurgling to the ground. Nick simply stepped away from him, pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, and began cleaning the knife of the blood.

"Azazel!" He barked without looking up, all humor gone from his voice. A familiar, hesitant voice answered.

"Yes Sir?"

"Get your ass over here!" Slowly, the older, yellow-eyed man joined his boss, shifting on his feet.

"I believe you owe Mr. Winchester here an explanation." Azazel looked almost disbelieving.

"Pardon, Sir?" Nick turned to face him.

"You heard me. Explain to Mr. Winchester here exactly why you did what you did." Azazel could only blink at Nick, obviously not having expected that to be what Nick wanted.

"We were in the area anyway, and I saw an opportunity to take something away from you like what was taken from me." Dean's grip on his gun, which hadn't been lowered, tightened.

"So this was your twisted sense of Justice? The horses I guess I get, but taking and torturing a life? That's equivalent to being fired?!" Dean was shouting now. Azazel snarled in Dean's direction.

"You killed my son, you little prick!" That brought Dean up short.

"What the hell are you talking about, old man?"

"When you were a bounty hunting little twat, you hunted down and hung a boy named Tom Branson for horse thieving. I was working for your no-good father at the time and he and I got into a big fight about it and I was sacked. I not only lost my only son, but my livelihood as well. Now, you tell me, does that fit your bill?" Dean remembered Tom. He'd been one sorry cuss, a real piece of work.

"Your son was arrested for horse thievery, but he has a list a mile long of sins against him. He got exactly what he deserved. Now I'm sorry you had to lose all that in one go, but you WILL pay for what you've done."

"You and what army, Winchester? We've got you out-manned and surrounded. You're the one not walking out of here," he chuckled.

"Actually, you're going with them." Azazel whipped his head around to his boss.

"What?!" Nick stayed calm as he responded.

"You're going with him. See, had you have done exactly as I'd told you and only recruited those new men and then come back as I had ordered, you would not have taken twice as long to get here and you would not have brought a sheriff's posse right to our makeshift doorstep. So, you're going with them, and they're getting you out of my hair. There's no room for rogue self-servers with their own agendas in my ranks."

"You son of a-"

"Yeah yeah, save it. You go with them, they get their horses back, and if they don't dispose of you, I will hunt you down and get rid of you myself. Am I understood?" Azazel could only stare at Nick with wide yellow eyes. Nick smiled, turned, and walked to one of the horses that had been tied to the hitching post. He climbed up into the saddle, and saluting Azazel with a shit-eating grin, he hollered to his men to move out and the ground thundered as a horde of men rode out from behind buildings and took off to the South. In almost comical fashion, Azazel slowly turned back around to the sound of the hammer being pulled back on Dean's pistol, aimed directly between his sickly yellow eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there you go. Now, there is plenty more to come for our boys, and there's still a few tricks up their sleeves :) To be honest, I don't really have any fun facts or anything this week, but if I think of any I'll come back and put them in. Comments, kudos, questions, thoughts, and opinions are always welcome, just please keep it nice and constructive. Anyway, I leave you until next time, friends. Tah!


	14. Chapter 14: Truth Comes Out In the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all! I know, it's been a while, but I'm hoping that this chapter makes up for it. A few things before we get into it, WARNING: this chapter has a VERY dark part with a VERY big twist. Before you read it, please take note that it may be very triggering to some, and should not be taken lightly. Please, if you are triggered easily, message me, and I will give you the big twist at the end without the dark event it happens it. With that being said:
> 
> This story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy.

Chapter 14: Truth Comes Out In the End

Months pass by, and before anyone knows it, almost a full year had passed by. Life on the ranch more or less got on, after much grieving. When Dean, Sam, Benny, Bobby, and Rufus returned to the ranch, there were no celebrations of a job well done. Instead, the neighbors, who learned of the eldest Winchester's return, brought casseroles and baked goods for the family. Everyone in the immediate family dressed in black and comforted each other, especially Ben and Dean.

Dean tried to keep things running as smoothly as normal, if only for Ben's sake. Of course, nothing could ever change the fact that his mother was now gone. He would get quiet, lost in thought, but like his father, he would shake it off and would be running off playing again. Sam helped a great deal, playing with him and showing him new things he learned over the years. In a way, it was almost like when Sam and Adam were little, except Ben proved to be a bit more of an attentive student.

Dean tended to distracted himself anytime his grief appeared during the day, keeping busy with even the most mundane of chores. Sam and Adam still worried about him, even though he was getting better. This Dean reminiscent of the Dean they saw after their parents died. If Sam lay awake late enough at night, he could sometimes hear Dean dreaming; muttering unintelligible things and tossing around in bed. When Sam asked Dean about this, he played it off and avoided the conversation, claiming he had things to do.

Within a few more months, things were almost back to normal. No one really talked about Lisa's death, but instead remembered her as she was before the events that stole her away from them. Even Dean was smiling more and was overall more jovial. Things were getting good again.

Much to the amusement of Dean and Sam, Bobby and Rufus ended up sticking around town. They had taken up working for the Harvelle's, Bobby taking a particular interest in Ellen. Whenever they were together, Sam and Dean would tease him, but it was all in good jest. Rufus found great amusement in this as well, and would often earn himself a "Oh shut it, you old fart" as a reward. Ellen put up with Bobby like a pro, and was the only one who could truly keep the man in line, and Jo found a soft spot in Bobby's heart and made herself right at home there. It was funny how time passes and brings with it so many changes.

Dean never expected to hear anything of Cas or Crowley again. Even if he had let himself hope that perhaps Castiel would occasionally wire him a letter or anything just to keep in touch, he had obviously been mistaken. So much time had passed, he wouldn't be surprised if he was just a passing memory in Castiel and Crowley's work history. That was how these things go sometimes, Dean supposed.

However, it came as a great surprise when a lone rider was coming down the lane to the ranch. They weren't expecting anyone and Adam called out that a rider was approching, alerting the entire ranch to the guest's arrival. Dean was watching from where he sat in a rocking chair drinking a glass of water after having just finished up with branding the new calves. He couldn't be sure who exactly it was, but there was something familiar in the way the man held himself and rode. The question of who exactly it was was soon answered when none other than Crowley pulled his horse to a stop in front of the Big House. Dean stood up, thoroughly surprised at his unexpected guest, who was now dismounting and handing the reins of his horse to Garth. Garth looked to Dean, who nodded, and then proceeded to lead the horse off to water and cool her down after the ride in.

"So this is the famous Sunglow Ranch of the Lawrence Winchesters? I must say, it's not exactly my kind of place, but it is quaint, in any case." Yep. Definitely Crowley.

"We don't make it a habit out of ostentation. It tends to make people think they're worth more that they actually are."

"How very sweetly archaic of you, Dean. Really, wealth is meant to be shown off. That's part of the beauty of having it in the first place."

"I'll take that under advisement. What are you doing here, Crowley? Not really like you to be making social visits."

"You're right, it's not. I've come on a bit of business, actually. I need your help with something." Dean raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms.

"YOU need MY help? Never thought I'd hear THOSE words come out of your mouth."

"We won't make a habit of it. However, this is a matter of significant importance; one regarding a subject we both have an interest in." Well, this could be interesting.

"Well, whatever could that be?" Crowley paused, pursing his lips and sighing.

"Castiel." Dean's thoughts ground to a halt. Crowley was asking for help regarding Cas? Dean uncrossed his arms and took a small step forward. This couldn't be good.

"What happened? Is he okay?"

"Let's go inside, and I'll tell you what I know." Dean nodded and turned, waving in a gesture that beckoned Crowley to follow him into the house. They went to Dean's study, where Dean poured them both a tumbler of whiskey. Dean sat, took a sip, then set the glass down.

"Alright, spill. What's happened? Is he alright?" Crowley drank from his glass then studied the contents like he was sifting through his thoughts.

"He's been off for a while now. He really threw himself into his work. We tracked down a good chunk of Lucifer's men, but Cassie was, is, determined to take him down completely. He started sleeping less,   
being more careless in how he handled himself, like he was distracted. The only times he isn't distracted is when he's working on hunting down Lucifer. I've never seen him like that. Very unsettling, actually." Crowley shook his head and took another swig of the whiskey. "Anyway, a few months back, we realized we were going to need some help with him, so we went back to that little encampment of soldiers out by Gleeson. They spared us some men to aid in tracking and apprehending Lucifer, but so far he's been one hard son of a bitch to catch.

It didn't take long, but I started noticing that Cassie was starting to attract some unwanted attention by one of the soldiers. It was just little things, like constantly watching him, and asking tons of questions about him whenever he would go off on his own. But the man wouldn't let up. He just kept pressing for more and more information, though he tried to make it seem like it was out of simple curiosity. Started seeming more and more shifty." Dean recounted the group of soldiers, how one had seemed to take an interest in watching Cas. He wondered if it was the same man.

"I talked to Cassie about it, but he didn't pay it any mind. He said it was probably nothing, and went on about his business." Dean picked up his own glass and studied the contents. Clearly Cas wasn't worried, so he didn't understand why Crowley was so concerned about this.

"I don't see what you want me to do about it. Cas isn't worried about it, and I'm sure if it is something, he can handle it. He's a big boy, he can handle it himself." He drank from his glass. Crowley stared at him.

"It's not that simple."

"How not? Seems pretty simple to me." Crowley sat in silence, a frown on his face, like he was calculating something.

"It really isn't that simple. And it's really not my place to say." That caught Dean's attention. What the hell was THAT supposed to mean?

"Excuse me? Care to share with the class? Seems you know a little more than you're letting on."

"It's not my information to share, and I'm always good for my word. That bit of information will have to come from him or no one at all." 

"Well Crowley, I don't know what else to tell you. Talk to him again, tell him it's really important."

"I've tried that! He won't listen to me! He says I'm too focused on the wrong man and then puts all his attention on hunting Lucifer. He's in way over his head, lost weight, he's not sleeping much... he's not doing well, and the only one on God's green Earth that he'll listen to other than myself is you. So, I'm here to ask you, begging like a damn dog, to come and talk some fucking sense into him." Dean looked Crowley over, noticed the bags under his eyes, as though he, too, hadn't been sleeping well. If it was enough to really bother Crowley into coming to Dean to ask for help, maybe it was worth looking into, if not to just see Cas again. That would be nice, at least. And when the whole thing turned out to be nothing, they could laugh about how paranoid Crowley was and how maybe it was time for him to retire to a quieter life. Yeah, that could work.

"Alright, fine. I'll go talk to him, but I make no guarantees he'll listen to me. He's closer with you than he is me." Dean finished off his drink as he stood to prepare for the journey.

"Believe me, as loathe I am to say it, you'd be surprised just how much I don't hold a candle next to some of the other things important to Castiel." And with that, Dean prepared to make the journey with Crowley.

They left the next day, taking the train down to Southern Arizona in hopes that they'd get there sooner, much to Crowley's urgings. The ride took a few days, finally reaching the Territories late in the afternoon at the station in Dragoon. They reached Courtland, Arizona later that evening, and were pointed in the direction of the building Castiel and the soldiers had been using as a headquarters while they were stopped there. Crowley was bristling the entire time, and while Dean had found it amusing earlier, he was now getting irritated. He was sure he'd been brought out here on a false fear, but as they approached the little building on the outskirts of the town, the sound of a scuffle and a muffled groan in pain followed by a thud began to make Dean's assumptions take a more serious turn. He and Crowley looked to each other before taking off at a run. They reached the door, Dean being the first to grip the handle and rip the door open, and when he stepped inside, he honestly wasn't sure he could trust what he was seeing.

***

It had been a long time since Dean and Castiel had parted ways at that train station. But hardly a day went by that Castiel's thoughts didn't wander back to those broad shoulders, sun kissed skin, and piercing green eyes. To his hard but gentle heart. But most days, Castiel tried to distract himself from those kinds of thoughts. Dean had lost the woman he loved, he'd taken his revenge, and he was gone. And Castiel was nothing more than a friend in passing. But that didn't ease the sting of that truth.

Normally, Castiel didn't go in for romance. He passed by people every day, and while he could appreciate one's beauty, he never really felt the pull to pursue anything more than an aprreciative glance. He had bigger and better things to do with his time than that nonsense. But then entered Dean Winchester, and he blew everything to shit. Not only a pretty face to look at, he was also kind and smart, strong and gentle and caring to a fault. He accepted Castiel at face value, despite his upbringing and where he'd originated. He was accepted unconditionally, and that was something entirely new to Castiel.

Yes, Crowley was his friend and accepted him for who he was and how he did things, but it wasn't the same. There was no attraction, no pull to Crowley to be anything more than what they were. They were friends, and that was how it was going to remain. But Dean was different. He was the first, and only, man that Castiel had ever truly wanted to be with. Which made the whole thing hurt that much more. Castiel could never have Dean Winchester, and Dean would never want someone like Castiel. That was simply the way it was, and no amount of wishful thinking, quiet prayers, and heated dreams was ever going to change that.

That was why Castiel put so much effort into finding Lucifer. It was so hard to go through day to day knowing what he wanted, the only thing he'd truly wanted, and knowing that no matter what he did, he could never have it. So, what better way to distract the mind than coming up with elaborate schemes to capture one of the deadliest men in the West.

The soldiers were a big help in this endeavor, though Crowley was not too keen on their help. Or more specifically, the help of one soldier in particular. Yes, it was true, Ishim was very enthusiastic to throw in his lots with anything Castiel had to say ('very' being used as an understatement, if one got right down to it), but he was easily ignored. He'd lose interest in whatever it was that had caught his attention, and that would be that. Crowley had just been over sensitive about the whole thing, and when he returned from his scouting trip, they'd move on with their next move. Hopefully this one was going to work.

Castiel was in their makeshift headquarters that evening, looking over the plans and memorizing them one last time before he went off to bed, when the door creaked open. Like clockwork, in walked Ishim with a smile in place. Castiel spared him the barest glance then returned to his studying.

"Still at it, eh?" Castiel only nodded, irritated at the unwanted distraction. Ishim meandered over to the table, glancing around the room.

"You here all by yourself at this late hour?" Another nod. "Hm." Another step closer.

"You know, you should take a break now and again. All work and no play isn't healthy, even for a young man like yourself." Another step. Castiel subtly glanced at Ishim in his peripheral, tracking his movements. Suddenly he was too close for Castiel's comfort, and he stood, trying to put some distance between them. He looked up to say something, but there was a glint in Ishim's eyes that stilled the words in Castiel's throat. Suddenly the room felt cloying and uncomfortable. Something wasn't right about this. Still Ishim advanced until Castiel was backed against the wall and the fear that spiked in him was altogether foreign and consuming.

"I've been watching you for a while now, Castiel. Ever since you first came into Soldier's Hole to water your horses, I knew you were something special." Another step and he was right in Castiel's face. "You probably don't hear it very often, but you're very beautiful. Lean and ripe, just right for the taking, I bet." Ishim's hand rose to Castiel's clavical, beginning to part his rare single layer of shirts. Castiel grabbed his wrist, but there was the familiar click of the hammer of a gun being cocked that still him. Ishim had a pistol trained right at him.

"Ah, ah, Castiel. I know you're scared and that this is probably new for you, but I'll make it good. I promise. But the time I'm done, you'll be begging for more. You just watch." And then he began to run his hand down Castiel's clavicle, down his shirt, to his breast. Castiel drew in a strangled breath and watched in horror as surprise and then a greedy grin passed over Ishim's face.

"Well if that doesn't just beat all. I'm one hell of a lucky man, aren't I?" He began to roughly try to remove Castiel's shirt, which was being blessedly stubborn, as he slotted a leg in between Castiel's to push their groins together. Effectively pining Castiel to the wall, Ishim's hard growth prominent against Castiel through their trousers, and Ishim's gun hand up against the wall momentarily. Castiel seized that moment, grabbing the gun, twisting, and throwing his hand across Ishim's face, illiciting a loud groan from him and pushing him backwards off of him. Castiel and Ishim both lost grip of the pistol and both made a grab for it. They struggled with each other, but in the end it was Ishim who got the upper hand. He sat on top of Castiel with the gun trained on his head while he tore open the shirt impatiently and exposed his top half. He grunted his approval as Castiel closed his eyes and frantically thought what to do next as Ishim ran his hand over Castiel in appreciation. When his hands moved further South, Castiel began to squirm again but stopped when Ishim pressed the gun right between his eyes harshly.

"Don't you fucking move. You're going to take it like the slut I know you are, and if you move an inch more than I say to, I'll blow your brains out." But the threat never got the chance to sink in as the door flew open to reveal none other than Dean Winchester, followed closely by Crowley. Dean paused in shock at the scene before him before he snapped into action, hauling Ishim off of Castiel and banging him head first into the floor, making the entire building shake. With Ishim unconscious, Dean barked at Crowley to keep an eye on him before finally turning to Castiel. Castiel stared dumbfounded as Dean's gaze drifted downwards, taking in Castiel's darkest secret. He scrambled to pull his shirt closed and close in on himself, trying to hide himself away like, but it was too late. Dean had already seen that Castiel was, in fact, not a man at all, but a woman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry, there will be explanations later. Some fun facts, Courtland, AZ is another ghost town in Southern Arizona and there is still an old jail with bars sticking out of it. There's a lot of graffiti, and but it's really cool to walk around in. There's even some supernatural elements to it sometimes. For instance, last time I went there, in the left cell there was a random whicker chair just sitting in the cell. Weird enough on it's own, but upon further inspection in the area, we found a bush had been hacked and it was of the same wood the chair had been made of. That was shady enough for me that I did not touch the chair and decided it would be best to just let it be until I had some salt with me :) Also, something I never mentioned is that this story is 100% my own writing and editing, and I apologize for any mistakes that have been made, and will inevitably be made, along the way. I am going to be working on trying to fix them as much as I can. Anywho, let me know what you think, comments, questions, thoughts, kudos; all are appreciated and I only ask we all be nice. BTW, thank you to all who have left kudos and comments so far, you guys are awesome! Till next time!


	15. Chapter 15: The Time of the Preacher: Revisited and the Wayfaring Stranger Come Clean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! It's been a while, but hey, as Kurt Vonnegut would say "So it goes." Anyway, I've had a lot go on lately, but don't worry, the story will continue, right until the end. So let's get right on into it.
> 
> This story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy.
> 
> **Just so everyone knows, I went back into this chapter and added some more substance to it. Whether or not this will help improve it or not, I don't know, but I thought it worth a shot.

Chapter 15: The Time of the Preacher: Revisited and the Wayfaring Stranger Come Clean

"Cas?" Dean tried weakly. He couldn't hide the shock in his voice, and his mind was reeling, trying to make sense of this newfound information. Castiel sat unmoving, staring straight ahead. When he realized that he was staring, and for lack of anything else he could think of to do in that moment, Dean turned his attention back to the unconscious man under him.

"Help me out here, Crowley." Together, they pulled the man up until they could get his hands behind his back and use an old strap to tie his hands together. Once he was secured, Dean turned back to his friend, who had not moved. Caustiously, Dean took a step towards Castiel. But like a nervous animal, Castiel flinched, scooting backwards ever so slightly and curling into himself (herself?). But the worst part of it was the all out fear written plain as day across Castiel's features, in every line of his (her?) tense body. Dean stopped, unsure of what to do. For the first time since he'd met Castiel, he (she?) was afraid; afraid of HIM. Dean didn't know what to do, but he did know he adamently did NOT like the sour feeling in the pit of his stomach at that knowledge. 

When Crowley moved past him to Castiel's side, he could only watch as he helped Castiel to stand up, who was avoiding Dean's gaze completely as h-SHE gripped HER shirt together tightly. Crowley sat Castiel down in the chair, muttering to himself and helping Castiel to readjust the shirt and found his duster to put around his shoulders. Castiel no longer looked afraid, but instead was withdrawn, still refusing to look even in Dean's direction. Cautious once more, Dean stepped towards where Cas sat, attempting to catch her eye. When Castiel wouldn't meet his glance, Dean's heart sank.

"Cas?" Castiel still didn't look at him, but instead inclined her head towards his voice. That was something, at least. "Cas?" He tried again.

"Leave it, Dean," was Castiel's only response. Crowley cleared his throat.

"I'll step out for a moment," he said as he dragged, with effort, a bound Ishim out the door; a sight that under other circumstances, Dean might have found amusing.

"We have to talk about this, Cas," Dean said quietly.

"No, Dean. We don't. You know what I am, and that's the end of it. What are you even doing here?" Castiel snapped suddenly, looking at Dean. Her tone defiant but her eyes reflecting hurt and anger. Dean was taken aback for a moment.

"Crowley brought me." Castiel scoffed.

"Of course he did. Well your assistance isn't needed." Castiel looked away again. It was the unwarranted aggression that was starting to make Dean angry as well.

"Oh yeah, it wasn't needed AT ALL. You really had him right where you wanted him." Though his tone dripped with sarcasm and he was bristling, a part of him was uneasy at the thought of Castiel actually wanting that bastard like that. He shoved the thought away.

"He wouldn't have gotten far," Castiel replied, his voice softer now. Dean shook his head, looking down. He tried a gentler approach.

"Come on, Cas." Castiel closed his eyes, but remained quiet. The silence stretched on for several minutes.

"Why don't you want to tell me?" Castiel's brow furrowed and she pulled her shirt tighter still around her. A moment later, she finally drew in a breath.

"I didn't want you to hate me." Surprise rocked through Dean.

"Hate you? Why on Earth would I hate you?" Castiel shook her head.

"I've lied to you, to everyone. I'm wrong."

"You think I'd hate you just because you're not a man? I mean, yeah it's surprising as fuck, and yes you lied but how is that a reason to hate you? I know plenty of women who hold their own." Dean paused here, another question brewing. "Why would you pretend to be a man in the first place, anyway?"

"Women are supposed to act and dress in very specific ways. Anything different from that path is severely disapproved of. There's very few ways for a woman to make it in this world, and that made my choices very limited. Add my background to it?" Castiel shook her head. "I told you how my father had been a traveling preacher and loved a Native American woman, which led to him having to raise me on his own, but I did not tell you the rest of the story. My father taught me how to use the land to survive, knowing that we could never have the cushioned life of town. When he saw that he was fading due to his illness, he expanded on my already boyish nature to act as a boy. Knowing that when he was gone, I'd have no one and I'd have no chance as a woman."

"Okay, maybe not before, but what about now? Couldn't you just give up the gunslinging? Make it some other way?" Castiel finally looked at Dean sharply, the piercing glare not what Dean had been expecting.

"What other way? A good 'honest' way? Marry some rich rancher and play my part as his brood mare and nothing more? Or perhaps you meant in some other way. Perhaps I should just sell my body, let any man with padded pockets share my bed and take what he wants. Who cares if that's what I want, as long as it keeps me out of a man's profession." Dean raised his hands defensively.

"Now hold on, that's not-"

"Never mind that women in both scenarios are more than just holes to poke, with hopes and dreams and opinions of their own. More than some feeble trophy to-"

"Cas!" Dean had heard enough. He knew he'd inadvertently hit a nerve. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did. I had just meant that this line of work is hard and can't last forever." Castiel's glare softened.

"I understand, Dean. I've never been one to enjoy the frills of womanly fashion, or know how social etiquette for hosting nonsense dinner parties. Even if I were to start up a ranch of my own, no one would do business with me." Castiel paused a moment, thinking. "I've never held much interest in much of anything feminine. I always loved being outside and wrestling my father. I loved hunting and fishing from an early age, and always found those silly dresses women wear to be as silly and altogether impractical as the gossip of social circles. I have never felt comfortable in my own body, and when I look at myself, all I can see is flaw. This is not how I feel like I'm supposed to be, and I am powerless to do anything about it. A woman I may have been born, but that is not me. Not all of me at least."

"I see." Dean didn't know what else to say. He didn't have any marvelous answers for Cas, but he did understand.

"Is all of this why you do some of those odd things?" Castiel gave a small smile at the question.

"Yes. A separate campsite offers me privacy needed for when I'm most vulnerable. I smoke my father's pipe to add the rasp to my voice, and use dust and dirt to distract from my lack of facial hair. All the layers I wear hide my... feminine features. That and my shorter stature and lean build make me appear as a younger male. It's also why Crowley does most of the fishing for our clientele. The more I keep attention off of me, the better I blend in and the more I can be the way I'm most comfortable being. I can breathe." It was all starting to click now. 

"Wait, so Crowley knew?"

"Yes. He's known since shortly after he and I met, and he's helped me a great deal in keeping my secret and allowing me to do what I do."

"Oh." That was all that he could think to say. It was all so much, it was kind of hard to take in all at once. They sat in silence, Castiel giving Dean some time to process it. Crowley came in several minutes later, taking in Dean's blank stare and Castiel's nearly tangible awkwardness.

"So, cat's out of the bag, I see. Have we been fully informed?"

"He has," Castiel said, standing and turning to Crowley. "And Ishim?"

"Secured and awaiting his fate. The sheriff will want to speak with you about what happened."

"I know. I'll deal with that." Castiel stepped towards the door but stopped, turning back to Dean slightly. "Will you still be here?" Dean looked up at her and nodded stupidly. Cas gave another small smile. 

"Good. I'll be back." With that, he went out to meet with the Sheriff.

***

The next few days continued in awkward fashion. Conversation between the two friends was strained and awkward, though they strictly avoided any mention of Dean's new enlightenment. Instead, they kept their conversations about tactics to take down Lucifer once and for all. He was still in the area, and Castiel was determined that the chance to get him was coming, and soon. Dean offered to help; it was only fair. Castiel and Crowley had helped him when he'd really needed it, now it was his turn. Ishim, for his part, was to be tried for assault, and his fate would be left to judge.

Crowley found some amusement now that he wasn't the only one in on the secret. Occasionally he would say a comment that would confuse anyone else, but to those in the know (Dean, Castiel, and himself) it was apparent what he was talking about. It reminded Dean of a child with their first secret, just busting to let everyone know that he had one. There were a couple of times Dean came close to hogtying the guy and stuffing a sweaty old bandanna into his mouth just so everyone could have some peace. But being the bigger man, he tried to just shrug it off and forget about it. 

But of course, that was not how all of this was going to go. Little by little, Castiel began to notice little changes in Dean's behavior. It was more just little things, and he wasn't really obvious about it, but it was different, and Castiel knew exactly why. Dean would do hold doors open for Castiel, and always allowed him to go first, no matter what it was that they were doing. He curbed his cursing around Cas now, and steered talk about anything too brutal or insensitive away from the conversation completely. For the Cavalry boys, who didn't know Dean as well, took no notice of this. But Castiel did, as did Crowley (whose amusement was just increased with the new development). When Dean started to get antsy if Castiel was around any of the guys alone, offering to go with them each and every time, Castiel had finally had enough. After a particularly clingy dinner on the first night they all moved out to track Lucifer and made camp, with Dean practically glued to Castiel's side, Castiel took the chance.

"Will you please help me to look after Ruffian? I noticed a misstep in her gait this afternoon and could use a second opinion on it."

"Sure thing, Cas." They both got up and walked out to where the horses were. Out of earshot, Castiel went behind the trunk of a tree and rounded on Dean, who stopped short, taking in Castiel's glare.

"So, are we not looking at the horses then?"

"What is going on with you?"

"What?"

"Answer the question. You've been acting like I'm some dainty flower that can't so much as be near a man without a chaperone or can't even open doors for myself. You're not acting like yourself, and I want to know what's going on." Dean huffed.

"Nothing's going on." Castiel crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. "I'm just being how I'd be with any other woman."

"Well, stop it." 

"What?" Dean asked for the second time. Castiel sighed with exasperation, but didn't ease up the glare.

"Stop it. I'm not any other woman; I'm still just me." Dean rolled his eyes.

"Listen Cas, it's not that I don't think you can't take care of yourself, but-" He's cut off when Castiel's fist strikes him hard on his left cheek. He staggers to the side slightly, but catches himself. When he turns back to Castiel, he's hit again, this time his lip splitting in the corner. Castiel goes to throw another punch, but Dean blocks it, and without thinking, throws one of his own, his mind caught up in the fight. Castiel dodges the blow and uses the moment before Dean can reel back again to tackle him to the ground, Castiel's shoulder into Dean's middle. Castiel straddled Dean's chest and put a blade to his throat, effectively making him still. Dean stared up at Castiel with wide eyes, who just looked down at him with a cold stare, one eyebrow raised.

"You listen here, Winchester, and you listen good. I am still the Castiel you met all that time ago for the first time. I'm still the man that fought alongside you, for you. I fight, I curse, I hunt, I exchange lead with lawbreakers and thugs. I've seen and done things that would make any decent person ashamed and distraught. A female I may have been born, but a woman I most certainly am not. I'm still me." He waited, letting that sink in. Dean could only nod, too dumbstruck to say anything else.

"Good," Castiel said, tucking the knife back into it's sheath and getting up off of Dean and stalking off into the night to go make his camp. Dean could only lay on the ground and watch as Castiel's sideways form disappeared into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, at the end of another chapter. This chapter was mostly exposition, and I apologize, but that's part of any story I suppose. Just a few things before we part and wait for the next chapter: when I was first coming up with this little story, I was going to keep Castiel as a male, but decisions were made. This story is probably the one time that I will change make it where Castiel is a female instead of a male. Nothing about it is political or related to politics, it's just part of the story. But isn't Castiel's lack of gender part of his character in Supernatural as well anyway? He's not just a male after all, just his vessel is. Anyway, if you want a reference for how I saw Castiel in this story looking like, he/she looks more like Hannah in the Supernatural Parody on Youtube than Misha, and his/her voice is similar to but not quite Future!Castiel from when Dean is sent into the future by Zachariah. Please feel free to comment or question, maybe even leave a kudos if you've like it. It really helps to keep me informed if you're actually enjoying what I'm writing. We writers live on feedback :) Thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next chapter!
> 
> P.P.S. I hope the bit that I added kind of make this chapter a bit more worth it. It took longer for me to do than I originally intended but, well, that's life. Anyway, until next time friends.


	16. Chapter 13: Fare Thee Well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Top 'o the current time zone to yeh! 'Tis the day after St. Patrick's Day, and I've returned with another chapter of gold for yeh :) So, I know this one hints around finality, but take it at face value. Also, I'd like to give a shoutout to all who have commented, bookmarked, and gave kudos on this story. You all are amazing, and this story would be nothing with you guys. Anyway:
> 
> This story is nonprofit and solely for the enjoyment of the fans. Supernatural and its characters belong to Eric Kripke, and I do not presume to own anything here except for the story itself. If I reference anything, I will always try to do my best to cite them in end notes. If you see one that escaped my notice, please let me know and I will fix accordingly. That being said, please do not copy this to put anywhere else. And of course, please enjoy :)

Chapter 13: Fare Thee Well

The whole process was a blur; by the end of which everyone involved were physically and mentally exhausted. Somehow refraining from shooting the bastard between the eyes, Dean had held him at gun point until the others approached. Dean must have looked dangerously close to snapping because when Sam and the others approached with their own gun raised and barely noticed by Dean, Castiel had placed a hand on his shoulder and spoke quietly to him. He reminded him he was still a Sheriff's Deputy and under obligation of the law let the man have a fair trial for his actions. Dean's eyes, flat and unkind, never left Azazel's face until Castiel managed to get him to turn away and lead the way to Gleeson's jail, the others forcing Azazel to follow at gunpoint.

After the situation was explained to the town Sheriff, who was decidedly NOT happy with situation his town had been caught up in, Azazel was to spend the night in the jail and the others were to have a night at the hotel. Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at the town's Sheriff and his ability to overlook such a high profile outlaw in such a small town. Of course, Dean suspected that the man may have been guilty of picking his fights and looking the other way. Dean understood the reasoning, but did not approve.

During the next several days, a judge was brought down from the town of Tucson and a trial was held, which resulted with Azazel being ruled as guilty and sentenced to death by hanging for horse thievery and murder among other counts. It would seem that Azazel and his son had a lot more in common than one would think. Most of the town turned up for the hanging; some there for the entertainment of a public hanging and others to see justice play out. Azazel's last words were that he'd see Dean in Hell.

That evening, the small band of heroes all celebrated their job well done at the saloon. All, that is, except Castiel. He opted to stay behind in in his room. Sam and Benny tried to convince Dean to join in their merry-making, but his heart wasn't in it. Not really. After about an hour into the drinks, Dean told his friends and brother that he'd see them in the morning to discuss their next plans over breakfast. Crowley called after him as he left, saying that perhaps they better make it lunch and then returned his attention back to the Soiled Dove vying for his attention. Dean rolled his eyes and went on about his way. 

Dean was in no mood to celebrate, but he really didn't want to be alone. He was about to turn into his room when he had a thought. He turned instead to the room across from his and knocked.

"Cas?" There was a thud on the other side of the door, and then the sound of rustling. It was several minutes before the door was timidly opened. There Castiel stood, and Dean couldn't help looking at him in amusement. Castiel was in a night shirt that was haphazardly tucked into his trousers with his slicker pulled over and held tight together with one hand. His short hair was a mess and sticking up everywhere, his eyes were blown wide and staring at him, his cheeks were red, and his breathing slightly heavy.

"Did I interrupt something?" Dean asked, barely trying to hide the smile playing on his lips. Castiel's eyes quickly darted away and down, avoiding Dean's gaze in an almost shy look that made the whole situation just that much more amusing and made Dean wonder just what exactly he'd just caught Cas in the middle of doing.

"Hello, Dean. What can I do for you?"

"Came to see how you celebrate a victory. What WERE you doing, anyway? What was that thud?"

"I was reading when you knocked and it startled me. It made me drop my book." He gestured vaguely behind himself.

"I see. And the coat and trousers?" Castiel looked down at himself, as if he'd forgotten what he was wearing. When he straightened back up, he pulled the slicker tighter into his hand and closer around himself.

"I was cold." And that was the extent of the explanation. Castiel stood staring at Dean, who stared right back while the minutes ticked by. Dean raised a hand and scratched the back of his head.

"Well, guess I'll let you get back to it then." Castiel tilted his head to the right in response and Dean turned back and went to his own door.

"Dean?" He stopped and looked back over his shoulder.

"Yeah, Cas?"

"Why aren't you celebrating?" Dean turned back around to face him, but stayed where he was.

"Didn't really feel up to being around all of them. We may have won, but a lot was lost all the same, and they were just too rowdy for me tonight." Castiel nodded his acknowledgement. Dean looked him over, wondering, not for the first or last time, why Castiel always avoided them during his down time. "What about you?" Castiel looked down again and shifted his bare feet.

"Like you said, a lot has been lost and I don't do well in crowds." Castiel looked back up to him, his eyes saying something Dean couldn't quite read. Dean nodded.

"Goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

***

The next day, around mid-day, like Crowley had predicted, they all sat around a table for lunch at the local resteraunt to discuss their next plan of action. They all sipped coffee with their meal of steak and potatoes, and Crowley grumbled about how they should be permitted at least another day of rest. Sam and Benny just chuckled at him as Castiel rolled his eyes at his friend. Dean took a bite of his steak, found it still wasn't as good as back home, and shook the thoughts from his head.

"Alright, so I know we haven't really discussed what would happen after we got the horses back, but now that we have, we need to figure out who's doing what. Any thoughts?" Sam cleared his throat. 

"I was thinking last night, why don't we just board the horses onto the next train out and take the train back to Lawrence? It'd get us home quicker, and may give a chance to unwind a bit."

"I like that idea. Would rather that to working my ass off herding a bunch of horses back to the ranch," Rufus stated around a mouthful of potatoes. Dean looked to Bobby.

"I'm with you, Boy, no matter what you decide." Dean's eyes went to Benny, who nodded, and then to Crowley, who merely shrugged and kept eating. Finally, his eyes found Castiel's, but the blue-eyed man was not looking at him.

"How about you, Cas?"

"Actually, we will be staying behind." Everyone froze at the table and Dean's eyes went wide.

"What, why?" Finally, Castiel met his gaze.

"Lucifer is still out there. He continues to wreak havoc, and I cannot stand by as he does and good people suffer. We had him and he escaped. I will be going after him." Dean stared dumbfounded.

"But what about us?"

"We are bounty hunters, Dean. Hired guns and our job isn't done yet. You will do fine without us." Dean wanted to argue, but knew he would not be able to talk Castiel out of his decision. He had said it before, he stood up for those who could not stand for themselves, and he felt it was his personal responsibility to take Lucifer down now that they'd gotten involved. Dean sighed.

"Fine. We'll leave tomorrow." He got up and left the resteraunt, and if he was asked, he would say it because he needed to make the arrangements and not because he was disappointed.

***

The next day came quickly, and with it quickly came their departure time. The horses were finished being loaded into the cars, and Bobby, Rufus and Benny were already in their seats. Sam and Dean were making sure all was good to go, and Dean failed to notice how his brother was watching him with wary eyes. That is, until Dean accidently caught glimpse of that gaze.

"I'm fine, Sam."

"I know, Dean."

"I just thought we'd all take the horses back together. I know they're a bit odd, but I could have offered them a job on the ranch. Crowley may have difficult, but Cas is amazing with horses and we could use his skills."

"They have their own battles to face, Dean. We did our part, and now it's time to return home and let them continue on with theirs."

"Yeah, i know. You're right. Did you give Crowley the rest of the money we owed them?"

"Yes. He was very pleased."

"Yeah, I can imagine." Dean rolled his eyes. "And Cas?"

"Haven't seen him." Dean hummed his answer. With everything in order, they headed to their car, ready to depart.

"Dean!" Dean turned around to the familiar voice, saw Castiel walking towards him, then looked back at Sam.

"I'll see you on the train," Sam said, then stepped on. Dean met Castiel half-way.

"Hey, Cas."

"Hello, Dean." They stared at each other. Dean had so much to say but didn't know where to start. Castiel's eyes, sorrowful but cautious, roamed over Dean's face, and though he couldn't be sure and didn't really stop to think about, Dean thought maybe he'd seen Castiel's eyes linger on his lips just before looking straight in the eyes again. The sorrowful look now gone and determination now in its wake. Castiel raised his hand and offered it to Dean.

"I wish you luck on the rest of your journey." Dean hesitantly took Castiel's hand, but instead of shaking it he just sort of held on. Castiel looked to their hands. Their grip was warm and gentle.

"Goodbye, Cas. Thank you. For everything." Castiel's gaze lingered a moment longer, then raised to Dean's eyes. He nodded once, and then that was it. Dean turned back to the train, boarded, and when he looked out the window to see if his friend was still there, Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty! So again, please don't think this is the end for our boys. They don't get off that easy... er, you know what I mean... Aaaaaaanyway, some fun facts for you:  
> -This one may not actually be that fun, but it is historic at least. Public hangings were an actual thing and the whole of towns would turn up to see it.  
> -The movie Tombstone, while depicting a very accurate picture of Doc Holliday, is not as accurate as it should be as far as the whole story. However, the movie called Wyatt Earp with Kevin Costner is a little more accurate about how things went down at the O.K. Corral and even gives a bit more backstory.  
> -No one knows FOR SURE whether Johnnie Ringo was shot by either Wyatt Earp or Doc, or if it was a suicide. All that is truly known is that he was found dead leaning up against the tree where he was to be buried. The grave is still there and can be visited, but be careful, the landowner is a bit cranky. 
> 
> That's all for now, folks. More is to come soon, and for now, if you have any thoughts, questions or anything please feel free to comment or leave a kudos. Just please keep things respectful. Thanks again to those who have, and of course every reader here is appreciated. See you next time!

**Author's Note:**

> So, I know it may seem chapter one moves pretty fast, but I did that on purpose. I wanted it to feel and sound like the intro the narrator (Sam Elliot I think) gives in the beginning of the movie Tombstone, which sounds the same way. Did I succeed? I hope so. The next chapter will be more detail and the actual story. Chapter two will also be uploaded shortly after this is posted, as I already have it written.
> 
> Fun Fact: You know what blew my mind? I was doing research for this story and the time lines, and came across something that broke my mind for a bit. Big Nose Kate, who was known to be Doc Holliday's (again, see Tombstone or anything regarding the shootout at the O.K. Corral) girl, died on November 2, 1940. This means that she lived through the twenties, which in itself is awesome. But there's another bit of awesomeness. Fredric Lehne, one of the actors to play Yellow Eyes, Azazel, was born Feb. 3, 1959. Conclusion? Kate died just 19 years shy of when one of our beloved actors was born. MIND. BLOWN. Kinda cool and terrifying when you realize that something that seemed to happen such a long time ago, really didn't happen that long ago.


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